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scekrex · 1 month

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Hi, so this would start with Adam being a fallen angel or demon(up to you) and a months had pass and Adam is getting the hang of redemption, he's still a bitch though(a badass bitch tho). Lucifer and Adam had gotten closer like apologizing to each other like( Lucifer for stealing both of Adam's wives and Adam for trying kill Charlie and all that)So, Lucifer being Lucifer he falls, falls hard and fast, while Adam is being his sassy, bitchy, and oblivious self in the face of Lucifer's feelings. Adam also has feelings for Lucifer, but he's cautious not wanting to ruin what he has right now. So Adam and Lucifer hang out and some demon or even better(worse in my opinion) Valentino takes interest in Adam. Lucifer, self proclaimed, Big Boss of Hell, threatens Valentino, while being a possessive bastard in the process(I find that hot for some reason🤷🏽‍♀️). As Lucifer is threatening Valentino, he accidentally reveals his feelings toward Adam, and slipped up with calling Adam, Hell's Queen, most importantly Lucifer's Queen.

Nah but possessive men are fucking hot and I love them (key to my heard, I swear) also I wasn't feeling comfortable calling Adam the queen of hell, so I switched it up to king, hope that's fine!

Fallen

pairing: Adamsapple

warnings: language I guess, n Val makes an appearance so yeah

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Adam had fallen deep, deeper than he had ever imagined.

Not only had he been killed by the smallest one, no he had also been locked out of heaven for good. Heaven had closed its gates for him, that was what Lucifer had told him when the now newborn sinner had asked for a meeting with Sera. Lucifer had also said that they would not speak to Adam, nor would they discuss the option of his redemption in the future, according to them Adam had dug his own grave.

The only reason that there weren't sinners chasing the former angel through all seven circles of hell was Lucifer's daughter Charlie.

Once Adam had been reborn, he had found himself in front of the Hotel’s entrance. And to be honest? Living somewhere rent free without the fear of dying at any given time just because some fuck-ups wanted to see him dead sounded pretty good to Adam. He was often found around Lucifer, not because the brunette liked the devil, but because he was the most tolerable out of the group. Lucifer and Adam had been constantly picking fights, sometimes they even threw hands at each other and yet they continued to surround themselves with each other.

It had taken Adam a good while to come to terms with the fact that hell wasn't forever and that redemption might actually be a thing. So he started to change some things. Instead of calling Angel a ‘stupid whore' he actually used his name, he tried to act somewhat decent towards Vaggie, he even enjoyed Charlie's weird bonding exercises sometimes. Alastor was another deal though, the former angel never really let the radio demon live down the fact that Adam himself would've been able to very easily kill him. Niffty was someone Adam strategically dodged whenever he could, that quirky little beast scared him more than death itself did.

“Y’know,” Lucifer started the conversation, a bottle of cheap booze in his hand as he and Adam were hanging out at the bar in the hotel lobby. “I don’t think I ever apologized for stealing your wives - well ex wives,” the devil continued as he carefully watched Adam out of the corner of his eye. He had meant to get that off his chest for a while now. Adam blinked, once, twice, then he shrugged, “I mean, they probably would've fucking cheated on me with someone else sooner or later, I’m actually kinda glad it was so soon.” Lucifer simply hummed at that, knowing Adam was probably right. A sigh came from the brunette and the devil turned his head to face the former angel as he spoke, “I’m glad I didn't kill your little brat,” he nodded towards the girl, she was sitting on the couch with Angel, they were talking about only God knew what, “She’s pretty fucking hard core, takes that redemption shit serious ‘n’ is willing to risk a fucking lot for it, gotta respect that amount of determination.” That was probably the closest thing to an apology Lucifer would ever get from Adam, but that was okay. He took it, “Yeah, she surely knows what she wants,” the blonde agreed.

And so it continued to go, Adam's behavior towards the other residents and the so called staff increased a lot over time and the bond between him and Lucifer only grew. Hell be damned, they even managed to talk a little bit about how things were back in Eden, and shared their thoughts about certain decisions that were made back then. It was actually kinda nice for Adam to have someone he was able to talk about the time in Eden.

The king of hell and the first man also both seemed incredibly touch starved, as Angel had said it once. They were almost constantly touching each other, even if it was just a hand on the other man's shoulder during a conversion. Not that Adam would ever admit it out loud but they even shared a bed more than once, usually when Lucifer’s depression got so bad that insomnia started to haunt the devil. Lucifer had once explained that Adam just grounded him, that he was feeling safe around the reborn sinner and that it helped having him around when sleep wouldn't catch him.

None of them addressed the feelings they were oh so clearly both feeling properly though. The men were always tiptoeing around each other, giving the other hints that there were feelings involved, but neither of them said it how it was.

Adam wanted to talk, he wanted to tell Lucifer, the tiptoeing around each other was getting on his nerves and he wanted nothing more than to just grab Lucifer's hips and pull the smaller one in a bruising kiss, he wanted to hold him during nights, wanted to wake up next to him. Adam wanted Lucifer. But everything they had was fragile and how far was too far? Would Lucifer abandon him if the devil would know about his feelings? He surely would, at least that was what Adam told himself.

It had happened more than once that Lucifer had been flirting with him, not in a joking way friends sometimes did, but in a way that made Adam feel like what they had going on was too real, too much, too obvious. It wasn't though. So whenever Lucifer flirted with him, Adam made sure to have a bitchy reply on the tip of his tongue, ready to hit and possibly hurt Lucifer with it. And while hurting the devil wasn't his intention, it was his only protection from the feelings he was feeling.

So the tiptoeing continued.

Well, it did until Valentino busted through the hotel doors, he seemed furious and was obviously looking for Angel. All that Val found was Adam. Adam, who was sitting on the couch, his feet up and busy scrolling through his phone. “Can I help ya?” he asked, not really paying attention to who was standing in front of him as he gave Valentino a quick glance before his eyes were back on his phone screen.

“What do we have here?~” Val hummed, excited over his newest discovery, “That pretty body of yours could satisfy so many demons.~” Adam sighed and turned his phone off, that was the first proper look he gave Valentino. “Yeah, well, hate to break it to you, whore, I’m not fucking demons. Don't wanna catch a disease, these fuckers out there are nasty,” he mumbled the last part as disgust appeared in his eyes. Val chuckled at that, and walked over to Adam, grabbing his hand tighter than the former angel had expected him to. “The fuck,” the brunette yelped as he was pulled to his feet and pressed flush against Val, who toyed with Adam's hair.

Lucifer was there to interrupt them in an instant, he grabbed Adam's shoulder, firm but careful not to hurt him, and pulled the reborn sinner away from Valentino, only to put himself in-between them. “Don’t you dare to touch him with your dirty fucking hands, Valentino,” Lucifer growled, which resulted in Val taking two steps backwards, he lifted his hands in defense as the grin vanished from his face. “Hey Lucifer, didn't know you're in town,” the moth demon tried to play the situation down, needless to say that he was unsuccessful. “Don’t fucking act like you didn't do shit, he,” Lucifer pointed to Adam, who was a little confused but definitely interested in how this would play out, ”is off limits for your shady shit.”

Val crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow, “Why? Is he your personal bitch? Hey, I totally respect that the king of hell doesn't want to share his toy with the public.” That's when Adam raised his voice against the demon, “Fuck you, I'm not his fucking toy!” That caused Val to chuckle again.

The moth demon took a drag from his cig and exhaled the smoke in Lucifer’s face as he bowed down a little to be on eye level with the devil, “Listen Lucifer, we both know that if I want something, I'll get it eventually and your personal toy is no exception.”

And that made Lucifer snap.

His eyes turned red as he made himself taller, just enough to be slightly taller than Valentino himself. The horns that grew on his head only made him appear even taller and his tail was flickering in annoyance. “No Val, you will listen. He's not my toy, but he's not gonna be one of your sluts either. He’s mine,” the devil growled in a deep voice, “Not my toy, but hell's king, my king. And you better show him some fucking respect.”

Adam could only stare at what was happening, he wasn't able to say something, too overwhelmed by the feelings that were rushing through his body and the words Lucifer had just said.

“Now get the fuck out,” the devil yelled, pointing towards the door. “And if you ever take another step inside this building, then you should better start praying because I won't be as nice a second time.”

Valentino was quick to hurry out of the building, he was a man with pride, yes, but he also knew that fighting with the devil was a stupid idea.

Once the door fell shut behind the moth demon, Lucifer shrinked back to his normal height again, the horns and his tail disappeared and his eyes switched back to their original color. Adam came up beside him, the taller man rested his arm on Lucifer's head, grinning at the devil, “So I’m not only yours but also king of hell? Fuck, shawty, why didn't you tell me ‘bout that?” Lucifer flushed at Adam's comment and couldn't help the soft chuckle that escaped him.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #adamsapple

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writingforatwistedworld · 2 years

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Phantom bride event-Player is the last option Pt.2

Self-aware au

Characters: Sebek Zigvolt, Trey Clover, Floyd Leech

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, cannibalism (a bit), kidnapping, violence, murder, obsession, possessiveness

First of all, how dare they to , are you work for them and secondly, HOW DARE THEY??!

But as we know Sebek is too much in awe to really yell in this situation

And then he remembers that everyone is frozen and that you are in grave danger

(Despite me being the author of this I sometimes feel bad of the Self-aware-au-you....)

Nu uh! Not on his watch!

If this was you simply being there as one of the many options in between and someone could still move then he would have been a lot calmer, probably planned your wedding already, and was sure that whoever could still move would protect you

But no, that is not the case

Instead you are standing there, without anybody to shield you, and proposing to a.... to a spoiled brat!

Dying young or not, this is unacceptable!

How shameful that someone like her shares the same rank with his master!

Sebek would duel her for your hand in marriage if things were normal (and he wouldn't be frozen) but this situation?

Planning to grind her into dust

Usually Sebek would try to look as best as possible so he wouldn't be a embarrassment for Malleus but that is thrown out of the window

He is screaming and if he could he would also be kicking

No one is safe from his wrath, not even you

Well then, if he can’t have you then no one can... Sebek is that some sort of red sauce of why is that... oh God, that is a real sword!

Trey already got your first “oath of eternal love” stolen from him and now you are also there? Alone? IN EVEN GRAVER DANGER??!

At this point he could rival Riddles angry... No he beats Riddles angry face, that's how red he gets

And then he starts to place the fault on himself

Why did he not try more?

Why did he not practice in advance?

The moment you stepped foot into this world he wanted nothing more than to be your one and only!

How useless could he get??!

And then rage returns

I swear, his emotions are more turbulent than the sea during a storm....

The guard near him is nervously sweating

Oh, you ask why?

Well, at this point he looks more like a vengeful spirit than a ordinary, capable of magic, human

Curse the princess! Curse her so that she will never be happy in her entire life!

It might be that h actually cursed her for real because in the future you will learn that she and her dear one seperated

(Chill Trey, don't just steal Maleficent's job!)

But after this you won't see the light of day ever again! Heck, you couldn't even dream of it because of the many heavy looks on your door and there not being any windows in the room

Floyd is already enraged enough by you being dressed like this for a entirely different person

But now you are also the last choice

You? Being send here by the headmage??!

Seems like there will be crow on tonights dining plan

But back to the problem we face right now

You can almost hear the treat in his head snap

Suddenly he goes all silent and glassy-eyed

In truth the eel is right now searching for any spell in his head which might help him in this situation

Wasn't there one that would throw someone's mind into madness for all eternity?

But oh, sadly he isn't powerful enough for that one.... (oh thank the princesses lucky stars!)

Afterwards you might want to... uh on second thought no

You don't want to talk it out with him

Floyd starts to be violent, and I mean much more than usual, even towards his bother

It was stolen from him! And you were in danger as well!

He can't trust anybody with your safety after this which leads to you having a fishtail and living somewhere in the sea in the middle of nowhere

See, isn't it nice down here? Just you and him and him and you and him! And with you of course!

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neilperrydeservedbetter1959 · 3 months

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a sad marylily moment (i'm sorry)

Lily's laughing. Why is she laughing so much? What's James got to say that is so damn funny, so goddamn fucking hilarious, that it has Lily sitting there with a hand over her mouth to physically stop the laughter, if only just for long enough to take a breath and wipe the tears from her eyes? What the hell is he saying to he--

"You know staring holes in the side of his head won't make him go away, right?" Marlene asks, one hand gripping a fork like a trident, her breakfast omlette balancing precariously on the prongs, with the other arm leaned on Dorcas' shoulder. Dorcas has started joining them every morning for breakfast. Not that Mary minds, not at all, honestly, but it just reminds her a little more of what she can't have, of who she can't have, who happens to be laughing with her newly-minted boyfriend a few tables down. Not that she's bitter, of course. She can't be bitter that two of her friends are happy and in love, what kind of friend would she be if she was?

The kind that's hopelessly in love with her best friend. Maybe that kind.

"I'm not trying to make him go away, what're you talking about? I'm really happy for them, they seem perfect together." Mary may not be known for her lying skills, but she's trying her absolute hardest in this moment to be as deceptive as possible. The last thing she needs right now is Marlene commenting on her feelings.

Marlene raises her eyebrows at her but eventually shrugs and turns back to her food, so Mary thinks she's in the clear, for now. From the unimpressed look Dorcas throws her way, though, her lying could've been better; she's looking at her like Mary just openly declared that she's not actually happy for the couple and that she is, in fact, full of shit.

Mary knows she's full of shit. Mary knows that Dorcas knows she's full of shit, and Mary also knows that after this conversation, Marlene knows that Dorcas knows that Mary's full of shit, so everybody know's Mary's full of shit and and Mary would like to prolong this period of time in which Marlene is too tired meddle in Mary's shit, thank you very much. She can only send Dorcas a pleading look that she hopes conveys the thought, we both know I'm full of shit but please keep your girlfriend off my back about this, i'm gettting over it, really, i swear, but she isn't sure it all fit in the one look. She also doesn't think it matters, as Lily just kissed James on the cheek and oh my god is this what dying feels like? This weight in your stomach, this sinking feeling? God this sucks. Maybe I'm not really getting over it. Is transferring schools an option? I think Beauxbatons might be a good choice-

"You look like someone just kicked a pygmy puff," Marlene interjects into Mary's spiraling thoughts, and, okay, maybe Marlene isn't as unobservant as Mary was hoping she was. "You know he's good for her, right? I mean, I know you had feelings for her too, same as him, but I honestly think this is for the best. You don't have to worry about how he's treating her, I mean, no offense, but he's probably even better for her than you would've been, you know? I-"

Marlene gets cut off by a sharp elbow that Dorcas lodged directly between her eighth and ninth rib, but the damage has already been done. If Mary looked sad before, now she looks positively devastated.

Mary can hear the uncertainty in her own voice, as if she isn't quite sure if she wants to know the answer as she asks, "Why is he better for her than I would've been?"

Mary can't understand how Marlene, one of her best friends, could ever think that Mary wouldn't have given Lily absolutely everything in her, every shred of love she had gathered over her seventeen years of life---they're all for Lily; who else could they possibly be for? Mary would fly to space and move the planets herself if Lily asked her to make them align, she'd set herself on fire just for Lily's eyes to gaze at her, only her. How could Marlene think her love isn't enough?

"It's just, I mean," Marlene huffs a laugh, "He worships the ground she walks on!"

"I worshipped the ground she walked on!" Mary wanted to cry out, shocked and hurt that Marlene thinks her adoration of Lily pales in comparison to James', simply because she didn't physically shout it from the tabletops every chance she got, and how could she? She's a girl, and Lily's a girl, and Mary had heard enough of the nasty whispers about Marlene and Dorcas when they came out to understand that it's received differently by your peers when you're of the same sex as the person you love. "You saw everything I wrote about her, I told you everything about how I felt, how could you say it wouldn't have been enough? Do you honestly think that I'm not good enough for her? Do you think he is?" Is anyone? Mary doesn't think so; she thinks Lily will forever be too good for anyone she loves, but Mary would have loved to have been not good enough and just been chosen anyway.

But instead of saying all of that, instead of spilling her thoughts at the breakfast table as surely as her heart is spilling her hurt onto the floor, pooling around her feet in shades of crimson, Mary laughs it off. "Yeah, you're probably right," she says, "He's surely better for her than me," and she actually thinks she believes it.

Because James fucking Potter is the sun, and he shows his love for Lily through grand gestures that sweep through rooms like the sun's rays, the same way they capture everything in their path as witnesses to the light---to the love. His love wraps around Lily like a hug that you never want to end, and if she truly was a flower like her name, she'd be flourishing in it. And if all this is true, if James is the sun and Lily is a flower, then Mary is surely the earth where the flower is planted; she's a home, she's hands to hold her, she's a necessity to Lily's life, but she will never be what Lily truly wants, what she wakes up for in search of each day. She will never be James Potter, she will never be his love, and one day she'll ditch all the metaphors and the complex emotions and she'll come to terms with the fact that she never would have been enough.

But until then, she'll sit here, eat her pancakes, and feel like dirt.

#harry potter #the marauders #marauders #marauders era #mary macdonald #lily evans #james potter #jily #marylily #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #francoise dorleac #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #peter pettigrew #james & peter & remus & sirius #loosely based off of my own life experience from the other day that stuck with me

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milesfingers · 5 months

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More Outlast protagonists headcanons because I need a way to cope my anxiety

part 1

Miles Upshur

Used to be a a troublemaker when he was young, but as he grew up he calmed down

I know many of y'all thinks that he's a gay lord, but I personally hc him as aroace. Although I said in the first part Miles had many girlfriends, I think that at a certain point he realized that he wasn't actually interested in anyone, either romantically or sexually, and that until then he had been struggling to find a partner

He LOVES Stephen King's novels, his favorites are Salem's Lot and The Stand

Smile is not acceptable option

Miles stopped watching tv news because every time he shouted at the television when he saw people he hated

He grew up with a single apprehensive mother, and when he became a journalist started to not talk to her that much because he was scared that she would be in danger due to his work

He have dark brown hair (which look almost black) and grey eyes, and he's about 187 cm (6'1 ft) tall

Waylon Park

Spend hours doing impossible puzzles, Lisa is questioning his sanity

In normal situations he's more patient than he seems

Despite being a model student and earning high grades, Waylon was not obsessed with his school career. Even though it came naturally to him to excel, he remained humble and even if he got a grade that he wasn't satisfied with, he wasn't discouraged.

Waylon NEVER swears. Always try to stay calm and not freak out

As a boy he was very submissive and involuntarily ended up being a doormat to people who wanted to take advantage of him. Lisa opened his eyes and although Waylon is still very friendly, he doesn't let anyone push him around

Really good at comforting and relaxing, he’s basically the therapist friend

Waylon have dirty blonde (dyed because he hates his natural color but refuses to admin it) hair and light green eyes and he’s 173 cm (5’8 ft) tall

Blake Langermann

Can do almost everything. Lynn often jokes about that he’s more multitasking than her

Even after his traumatic childhood he still believes in God, even thought he became a bit cinical

Picky eater

Blake and Lynn often go on vacation in Scandinavian countries. They both fell in love with that part of Europe while doing research in elementary school, and when they had the chance as adults they spent a week in Denmark

Actually listen to rock music and when the others find out they are surprised because he doesn't seem like the type

The reason why Blake and Lynn didn't have sex in months is because they were too stressed and tired with their work. Before the Anna Lee case they had documented the murder of another young girl and it was too much for them

Blake has black crew cut hair and black eyes, also he's 177 cm (5'9/6'0 ft) tall

#yeah this time I included how I think they look #please don't be mad #outlast #outlast game #outlast whistleblower #waylon park #miles upshur #red barrels #outlast 2 #blake langermann #outlast protagonists #outlast headcanons #outlast miles upshur #outlast waylon park #outlast blake langermann #lynn langermann

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grailfinders · 2 years

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Fate and Phantasms #12P: Gilgamesh

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re once again building that big gold jerk (affectionate I swear) Gilgamesh. He’s a… Champion? Dammit, we just got out of the sabers! Ugh… well, despite his opinion on gods his power probably comes from being 2/3s one, so I guess it fits. We have to hop into Sorcerer for his godly blood, and we also dip our toes into being an Oracle so we can get his Clairvoyance.

Ngl, Gil Gamesh was a toughy to figure out. Guy's pretty good at everything, and is rich enough to buy the planet. Still, I think we did a good job here.

Check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: robin from the rich

Ancestry and Background

Sadly, there isn’t really an Aasimar equivalent in Pathfinder (or at least not one in Wanderer’s Guide) so we’ll have to settle for Human for now. This gives you a boost in Charisma and Strength, and since you’re a skilled human, you’re trained in Intimidation, and will automatically become an expert at level 5. Beyond that, your Haughty Obstinacy makes it a lot harder to control you. If you’d be controlled and succeed on a mental save to stop it, you critically succeed instead. Similarly, creatures that fail to coerce you critically fail instead, so you’re immune to their attempts for a week.

At level 5 your protagonist power makes you a Clever Improviser, so even if you’re not trained you can add half your level (or all of it past level 7) to your skill checks. You can even make actions that normally require training to do! The perks of owning literally everything, I guess.

At level 9 we take it one step further with some Incredible Improvisation. You can take a free action while making an untrained skill check to get a +4 bonus to the roll because of course you’re good at literally everything. Should’ve made you a bard, tbh.

At level 13 you can Bounce Back pretty damn well, preventing yourself from being wounded once per day when you recover from dying. Gilgamesh has literally never died not standing up, the guy’s kind of a tank.

Finally at level 17 Your Heroic Presence lets you boss around some mongrels once a day by casting the zealous conviction spell, though it straight-up doesn’t work if they’d hate to follow your commands normally.

Finally, your background. Hey, Royalty is actually an option in Pathfinder, neat! It gives you a boost to Charisma and Constitution, training in Society, and the Courtly Graces skill feat so you can use your society skill to make an impression on nobles. You sure do make an impression on nobles, if that dinner you had with Iskandar was anything to go by. It’ll also give you a boost to your Connections later, automatically giving you connections within your territory and noble connections outside of it.

Class Levels

1. You are trained in Perception, Religion, Reflex, your Class DC, all weapons and armor, Arcana, Athletics, and as your intelligence increases, Occultism, Performance, and Crafting.

Your Strength is your Key Ability, so you get a boost in that, as well as an Ability Boost in Strength, Constitution, Intelligence, and Charisma.

Your Champion’s Code basically informs how you’ll be playing your game- good or evil. For the first time we’re going against a character’s listed morality because the man rapes people. Like this is still the asshole Gil from the start of the epic. I don’t care what his profile says, he ain’t chaotic good. The man’s a Tyrant, and I’m not just talking about his ruling style. As a lawful evil champion, you have the following rules:

You can’t commit a purely good act, i.e. acting out of charity or casting good spells.

You also can’t put another person’s need before your own. (you also can’t put your needs before your deity, but… like, that rule would get broken no matter what.)

You won’t follow the lead of someone lesser than you.

You must enforce established hierarchies, and take over illegitimate ones.

You must bind the weak to serve you, as long as you have a use for them and can be relatively certain they won’t betray you.

Call me crazy, but I doubt most of those will be an issue for you.

Your Iron Command lets you teach whatever mongrel just hit you exactly where they stand, commanding them to kneel in obedience. Either they do and drop prone, or they take mental damage, which increases every couple levels. Also, all your strikes deal extra damage the next turn, also getting bigger as you level up.

You get the Touch of Corruption devotion spell which hurts living things and heals undead. You can use this by spending a focus point, which you get back fully on a long rest, or one at a time by spending ten minutes per point.

You also get another focus point (up to a max of 3) every time you get a new focus spell, like the one from Deity’s Domain. I’d love to pick wealth, but if we want a gate of Babylon, we’ll have to go for Earth instead. This gives you the focus spell Hurtling Stone, spending one action to hurl a big chunk of rock at something. I know you have swords and stuff, but you’re just throwing them at people. Bludgeoning damage is fine for now. By the time you hit level 19 this is dealing a solid 10d6 damage, which almost makes up for the fact that you can only use this twice per short rest.

You also get a Deific Weapon which doesn’t do much since we’re grabbing a sword, and a Shield Block which does absolutely nothing since we don’t have a shield. Blocking is for people who are worried.

2. At second level your Conceited Mindset gives you a +2 bonus against mental effects, and if you succeed it’s always critical. In return, your failures are always critical as well. This is kind of covered already with your ancestral bonus, but you’re really conceited, so it’s fine.

You can also use Group Coercion to coerce… a group! Right now it’s just 2 people, but that’ll get bigger as you get better at intimidation.

On top of that your two-thirds god side awakens when you pick the Sorcerer Dedication, giving you a Divine Bloodline as well as training in Nature and Diplomacy. You also learn two cantrips from the divine spell list. Grab Shield to protect yourself with projected swords and Divine Lance to unprotect other people with projected swords. By “unprotect” I mean you hit them. Now you’ve got a gate you can spam all day! This one’s alignment-dependent though, so if you need to fight another lawful evil creature, make sure you stock up on rocks.

3. Your third level isn’t quite as wild, though picking up a Divine Ally in your Blade is nothing to sneeze at. Now you can make your sword Fearsome, making a creature frightened when you critically hit, or Shifting, turning your sword from a sword into any other weapon that uses the same number of hands. Obviously you’re not using Ea, so having a hand-held Gate of Babylon ready to go could be useful.

You’re also used to bossing people around, which is why you’re a Hireling Manager, giving any hireling you get a +2 bonus to all skill checks.

Speaking of skills, you’re an expert at Athletics. That armor is heavy, and you’ve got to be able to move.

4. At fourth level you can become a Sacral Lord, giving you rulership over a land. Within your borders you can cast detect magic, guidance, and sigil as cantrips, and you have a +1 bonus to make an impression on extraplanar beings. Your mood will also affect the area and vice-versa, though that’s not a mechanical thing.

You’re strong enough that your Intimidating Prowess speaks for you, giving you a +1 bonus to coerce or demoralize creatures, and you don’t need to share a language for the full effect. Vaporizing people with magical swords is a universal language, after all.

Finally, you gain Basic Sorcerer Spellcasting, giving you a 1st level spell and slot. Then at sixth level you’ll get a second level slot and make one spell a signature, and at 8th you’ll get a third level slot and spell. For our first level spell, pick up Bless for some Charismatic power, giving you and all allies within 5 feet a +1 bonus on attack rolls. It’s a first level spell, they’ll get better.

5. Fifth level! Weapon Expertise is self-explanatory, as is your expertise in Occultism and Intimidation (from your ancestry). Also, your Ability Boost in Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, and Charisma? Doesn’t really need too much info to grasp. This job’s easy!

6. Sixth level is a little more complicated. You can issue Iron Repercussions against people who don’t kneel from your Iron Command, dealing persistent damage instead of a single hit.

You also get more comfortable in your seat of power with Terrain Expertise. If you’re playing to Gil’s character, you’ll get a +1 bonus to survival checks in either a desert or plains. If you’re making your own I’d pick whatever area your sacral land is in.

Finally, your Basic Blood Potency lets you use Dangerous Sorcery, adding extra damage to blasty spells. You admittedly don’t have any yet, but you do have Spiritual Weapon, which works pretty much how the DND one does. Make a floaty weapon, hit people with it. Flavor it as just making a new one to throw around every turn and you’re good!

7. At seventh level your Armor Expertise and Weapon Specialization helps you deal more damage and take less, while being a master at Intimidation makes it a lot easier for you to cow crowds by coercing up to 10 people at a time. Your Treasury contains more than just weapons though, making you a Prescient Planner. Once after each shopping trip, you can simply summon up whatever you need when you need it. You still need to be able to afford the item, but that’s not exactly a problem.

8. At eighth level your focus pool maxes out when you learn the Sun Blade spell, letting you Ea it up a bit with a giant blast of fire from your sword. Okay, it’s not exactly giant yet, but somewhere between 4-12d4 is still a solid hit.

You can also issue a Battle Cry at the start of each fight, demoralizing a foe as a free action.

Finally, your Bloodline Breadth gives you an extra spell and slot for each spell level at least 2 below your highest. In other words, you get an extra 1st level spell this time around along with your 3rd level spell. Your first spell is Bone Spray, which despite the creepy name could just as easily be a bunch of swords shooting out in a cone dealing piercing and bleed damage.

Your third level spell is Behold the Weave, giving you a little futuresight as a treat. If a target doesn’t critically succeed on their will save, you’ll learn what they’re doing in the future, forcing them to commit their actions ahead of time or lose them in a paradox. You learn one on a success, two on a failure, and all of them on a critical failure.

9. Nine’s another easy one. You’re an expert in Champion dcs and attacks as well as reflex saves. You’re also a master at Fortitude saves and you make critical successes instead of regular ones. You’re also an expert in Society, and you can add a Divine Smite to your Iron Command, dealing persistent evil damage if they don’t kneel.

10. at tenth level you get another Ability Boost, giving you enhanced Strength, Constitution, Intelligence, and Charisma. You also gain Devoted Focus- if you used at least two focus points, you can regain two focus points per Refocus.

Your Skeptic’s Defense means you don’t believe in gods so hard you can counteract mental effects using your intimidation. If you succeed, you can ignore the effect entirely, and the source of the effect becomes stupefied for one round if they can understand how weird that is.

Your Advanced Blood Potency gives you access to a Split Shot, spending an action before making a single target spell attack to make it a double target spell attack. Each shot deals half damage, but it’s still all one attack. Now you get focus back twice as fast, and you can fire off twice as many earth shots. That’s like, eight times as many swords I think.

11. Proficiency bonuses: expert in Perception, master in Will and Athletics. You can also Exalt your iron command, forcing all enemies within 15’ of the original to make the kneel or hurt choice too, though the extras only take the minimum amount of damage and they don’t get the extra goodies from Smite or Iron Repercussions.

Finally, your treasury finally gets Prescient Consumables in stock, so you can also summon consumable items as well as your regular gear.

12. At level twelve you can issue a Litany of Self-Interest, enticing a target creature to work for their own goals instead of that of the gods. It gives a creature +2 to attacks, perception checks, saves, and skill checks, but it can’t do anything that positively affects other creatures, even if it helps them too.

You can Quick Climb too. It’s not a giant flying platform, but at least it’s vertical mobility. Your armor is made of gold, it’s really hard to drag around.

You can even make Detonating Spells now, throwing a sword with so much power behind it to deal splash damage to adjacent creatures. This works with your split shot too, so now you can hit a lot of people with a “single-target” spell.

13. You’re a master in armor and weapons, and an expert in Religion. You can’t piss gods off without knowing what makes them tick, after all.

14. At fourteenth level your Radiant Blade Spirit gives you extra rune options for your sword- flaming, axiomatic, or unholy. The alignment runes deal extra damage against the opposite alignments, and flaming is just cool. Ea looks kind of flaming, doesn’t it?

You’re also good at Exhorting the Faithful, giving you a bonus to request things from your own religion, and letting you use religion instead of diplomacy to do so. Why give those gems to Ishtar when they could go to you?

Finally, we get our other archetype, the Oracle. You become trained in Medicine and Acrobatics, and you pick up the Battle Mystery- you also gain two more divine cantripslike Create Water and Quick Sort for more treasury shenanigans.

15. Your next ability boost helps your Strength, Dexterity, Intelligence, and Charisma, and your Incredible Investiture helps your drip. Nothing special, just the ability to invest up to 12 items instead of 10.

Your Greater Weapon Specialization helps you deal even more damage, and you’re also a master in Religion. You might not like the gods, but you do have to live with them.

16. Good news! You’re now an Instrument of Slaughter! If you’re dealing extra damage with your Iron Command and you score a critical hit, the enemy also takes persistent bleed damage! Kind of situational, but Ea’s a really cool sword, it needs a lot of dice to roll.

You’re so terrifying you can force enemies to make a Terrified Retreat. When you critically succeed at demoralizing someone, they flee for one round.

I know it’s a little late, but your Expert Sorcerer Spellcasting gives you more spell slots, and thanks to your breadth that means you get 1 2nd level spell, 1 3rd level spell, two 4th level spells, a 5th level spell, and a 6th level spell, all from one feature!

To start, you can Enhance Victuals, which is just a fancy way of saying you make food better. Whether you’re replacing trash food with something from your treasury or you’re just so fucking rich water turns to wine to impress you, you’ll be able to live the good life.

For even more anti-godliness, a Crisis of Faith not only messes with someone’s mind it also does more damage if they use divine spells and depending on how badly they fail they can become stupefied and can’t cast those divine spells for one round.

Ea’s so cool it can become an Implement of Destruction, meaning you target a specific enemy- if they fail a will save they’ll take extra mental damage from it for up to a minute, and can even become doomed, reducing their number of death saving throws by 1. You can also use Spell Immunity to make yourself immune to anime nonsense using even more anime nonsense. Gil’s got an exact copy of every noble phantasm in his treasury; it’s going to take a lot to surprise him. Now you can name a specific spell and Spell Immunity will attempt to counteract that spell whenever you get hit with it. Thank goodness you can see the future.

For a proper Ea-ing, use a Flame Strike to call down a ten-foot radius of divine fire. It cuts fire resistance in half, and even immunity doesn’t quite work on it.

Of course for our sixth level spell I had to make a Blade Barrier. Throw down a bunch of swords, hurt anything that passes through the area.

17. Woof, that was almost as long as level 1. Let’s have a nice and easy level this time, huh?

Your Champion Master makes you a master with your class DC, as well as divine spells. You’re also legendary in all armor now, plus Religion.

18. At level 18 you can make a Gruesome Strike, doubling the damage from your Champion’s reaction and forcing a fortitude save or they become drained.

You also finally make some Connection, letting you make a society check in areas you’ve spent time in to pull a favor with important figures.

Finally, you gain your first and only Basic Mystery, letting you Widen Spells you cast, spending an action before casting to add some extra space to your area of effect spells.

19. On your penultimate level you become legendary in Intimidation, letting you Scare to Death an unfortunate enemy if they fail a fortitude save. It also becomes a lot harder to kill you thanks to your Hero’s Defiance, healing you up if you would drop to 0 HP. You can still get instakilled, but you’ll stay up a lot longer.

20. Your final level comes with a final ability boost for Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, and Charisma. You become a Radiant Blade Master, giving you even more options to customize your sword.

Your Terrifying Resistance makes it even easier for you to cut through most saves once you demoralize a creature, giving you a +1 bonus against all their spells.

We also pick up an Advanced Mystery from your Oracle training, letting you make an Oracular Warning as a free action upon rolling initiative. This lets you or another ally have advantage on your initiative roll, and since you’re legendary in religion you can give this to two people. However, this means you get disadvantage on yours. Still, you should let the dogs fight it out first, makes things easier for you.

Pros and Cons:

Pros:

You’ve got some pretty good saves, with two masteries, critical successes even from early levels, and a bunch of bonuses on top of that against anyone trying to control you. I’d be willing to bet that even gods can’t keep you down!

You also have some solid swordplay, which plenty of big hits to go around and a bunch of runes available to customize your blade further. Being able to tell the future is also a big bonus against melee fighters- if you can get an ally out of harms way after they call an attack, that’s one less action you have to worry about in the fight! Action economy saves lives, people.

Despite technically being a melee class, we also picked up plenty of powerful spells, and thanks to your quick-charging focus and your spell list being twice its usual size you’re good at spamming them like a true Gilgamesh would. On top of that, your ostensibly single-target spells can even become two area of effect projectiles, so not only can you spam, but your spam is supersized.

Cons:

You have bad Wisdom. Most of your will save comes from your proficiency, but it also effects your initiative roll, and with your futuresight also eating into that, odds are you’ll be going last more often than not. That’s especially bad since you’re the one with the futuresight to begin with!

Speaking of wisdom saves, your conceited mindset doesn’t really do much for you in the lategame. In fact, it’s almost entirely a hindrance. A +2 bonus is nice, but your regular bonus is already a +20ish by late-game, and this whole time it forces you to critically fail any mental save you wiff, which gets a lot worse at high levels!

While you’re better at spamming focus spells, they’re still not good for spamming since you only get three per short rest, roughly. After that you’re stuck relying on your giant sword and regular spells like some kind of… commoner. The horror.

#fgo #fate grand order #pathfinder #PF2E #Gilgamesh #Champion #Sorcerer #Oracle

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carnelianwings · 1 year

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Harvestella Review

For a game I meant to just spend the afternoon on, I ended up playing all afternoon, followed it up with a 4 hour impromptu stream, and now it’s 1 am. So to me, it’s been a fantastic game so far. Definitely not a game you want to rush, as I discovered after dying no less than 4 times in the first 2 chapters alone, but if you take it at a casual pace and don’t actually push your character harder than the game wants you to, you’ll be fine. (I’ll come back to this point later.) Also I should note that I jumped into this game blind knowing that it’s a full game and a farm sim/rpg hybrid and zero knowledge of the staff credits (especially the composer rofl).

Doing a proper detailed review based on the 8 hours I’ve spent playing this today, tucking this behind a cut because good god this got long lol.

tl;dr: Unexpectedly fun, worth trying at least the demo if you’ve played (and enjoyed) Sakuna of Rice and Ruin (it’s very similar in concept and execution except you’re growing more than just rice and it’s a full fledged 3D action RPG instead of 2D beat ‘em up), OST is amazing, it’s just that $60 price tag that’s a little YMMV. Based on the 8 hours I’ve played today, easily an 8/10

Starting with the cons - the biggest one here is the price tag. For the type of game it is, I’m not entirely sure it’s worth the $60 release day price tag. Definitely get it on sale when it happens; it’s definitely worth it at a lower price. At its current price, though, it’s a massive YMMV. I’ll give it some more time to see how the story pans out to decide whether or not it’s worth the price tag - I’ve spent enough years of my life playing Tales to know just because the opening plays all the tropes straight doesn’t mean the rest of the story will too.

Speaking of Tales - despite this being a SqEnix title complete with the Final Fantasy style character designs and look, there’s definitely a few things that scream Tales and Star Ocean in here. Time will tell whether or not how much of those “Hmmmm this doesn’t feel like FF but definitely feels like Tales/SO” vibes pan out.

The biggest win (actually there’s 2) for the game is definitely the OST though. If you loved any of Go Shiina’s contributions to Tales OSTs over the years (especially his contributions to Zestiria/Berseria’s) definitely give the OST a listen. It’s fantastic, it’s amazing, even though it’s not a Tales OST I actually want a copy of it. If this is what we get from Go Shiina parting ways with Bamco Tales Studio, then I’m not going to complain too hard.

The other big win (which I think has been spread around the internet at this point), is the fact you can choose to play as a male, female, or non-binary character. I’m honestly impressed they included this as an option, now all I’m wondering is if the post-game romance options also let me romance any character of any gender, because 8 hours in and I have to say - I kind of have a crush on Aria, and I would be very sad if I can’t romance her post-game just because I opted to play as the female MC. Also just saying I made my female MC with blue hair and eyes before I even saw Aria, so I swear we’re red/blue compatible and just ... let me date her and make her happy *sobs*

Combat is a little “meh” for now, but there’s signs it’ll get better as you unlock new Jobs and gain levels. Despite people saying there’s no dodge/evasion in combat, there is, but it’s a skill you have to learn off of melee classes ... which, if you’ve been around Tales long enough, will sound really familiar. I can definitely say if you’ve played Tales those same skills will help you get pretty far, and being able to equip 3 Jobs with you when you go out exploring and swap between them gives you a lot of flexibility ... kinda like Ludger actually. My biggest gripe is that there’s no healer for now, so you’re really reliant on early foraging for food and whatever you can farm for HP recovery - but at least you can eat food while you’re in combat and whatever you use on yourself also applies to your other party members so you’re not burning through all of your food stores before you get around to renovating the kitchen and you can cook food for better buffs/HP recovery instead of stuffing your face with whatever random herbs/veggies/fruits you’ve foraged/grown. The AI is decent, but you can’t really adjust what they do in combat or their strategy but at least they won’t go half-cocked on what’s essentially a Giganto Monster and get one-shot. It’s a little annoying though if you’re playing as a Mage because this means you have to be the one to open combat and the monsters aggro on you once you get into (casting) range so it’s a little annoying.

As for the farming sim part, it’s pretty standard farm sim, straight out of the f2p microtransaction mobile game playbook. That said, this is a full game so you don’t have to wait for onerous timers to grow your crops, the farming itself is more plant/water/wander off and do your questing/monster smacking/materials gathering and come back to harvest the next day kind of deal. Having played Sakuna of Rice and Ruin (and loved it) I was hoping this would be how it got implemented so I’m satisfied with how that turned out - plus this also scratches that “I want to play a farm sim” itch I get once in a while that leads me to downloading some terrible f2p microtransaction mobile game to play for all of a month before I hit the paywall of “wait 1+ day(s) for thing” and get fed up with it.

As for the general side quests - I highly recommend you do them as they pop up, as they really help you with earning money and gaining exp for leveling. They also show up at the right time for your level/story progress, so it’s definitely a good way to supplement you with what you need to tackle the main story. Plus you get to learn more about the NPCs in the town, and everything seems to point in the general direction of “You really should get to know everyone in town Because This Might Be Plot Important Later”. Oh, and that’s also where I’m getting a lot of the Tales/SO vibes - for all that the overall game world looks bright and shiny and happy, there’s definitely undercurrents of “This is actually a Crapsack World” that wouldn’t be out of place at all in a Tales game, with a few NPCs you encounter that wouldn’t be out of place in an SO game for both aesthetic and world building information they’re dropping. Also they encourage you to enter the various dungeons multiple times, which is a good thing, since that also helps break up the leveling monotony and it doesn’t feel like you’re just grinding monsters for exp.

Overall, it’s a pretty fun game, the characters are engaging, the plot is interesting thus far (even if it’s pretty standard JRPG storytelling) and as a casual-ish game it’s fun. Maybe not worth the $60, but definitely worth getting if you see it on sale.

#anzu says a thing #harvestella #review #no really don't rush the beginning unless you want to end up broke with no money

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cultivatingyourfuture · 9 months

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okay finally brain

-The crossed out text pre memory wipe. The way it starts back at one

-The Lonliness

-The little boy :( They remember him :( They taught him piano :( He was so small :(

-Something very important to me about Cherry pitting himself in the entire internet and smthn I remember here about how it’ll probably open up there. On the internet, of course. I think it was an RR ad/website?? Smthn smthn anticipating direct interaction with Cherry, or what’s left if her at that point

-The fact that Cherry fucking DIES. Ough I. While I’m obsessed with the new horror arg take thing admittedly I still think about a lot of these characters as how they were back on the old blog, and I’m still attached to them in that way, and I fuckinng!!! SHE’S DEAD EHAT DO YOU MEAN SHES DEAD!!!

-There is something in here with you.

-I swear to god the “is death scary” “I don’t know, I’ve never died” came from a portal fic. Blue Sky was it??? I remember seeing a post on the ild blog where you went insane about that fic for a bit

-BUT LIKE ASSUMING THAT’S EVIE IM LIKE LITERALLY SO JORMAL ABOUT HOW GENTLE SHE IS WITH CHERRY THERE I FUCKING!!!!!

-Live. What does that mean. Does he live?? What comes of them after that?? Or is she just living in everything now?? Not as a whole conscious anymore but as if he devolved and now bits of him are everywhere????

HEHEHEHAHAA okay okay. okay. thank you so much for this give me a moment

-"direct interaction with cherry" ohh you have no idea do you lmao. something something open your email

-its a weird kind of dichotomy for me too because while these characters are changing and growing with me my attachment to them is still based in wttw in many ways. its kind of like making an AU for something yk? like. these are the same characters but the situation and circumstances are different and so they are too. so ik what u mean lol ,, im doing my best to separate how i felt abt certain things in wttw as to not influence ivwarg's development but. glances at vallen. i am not doing the best at that sometimes i think djdjdhsjd

-yes its taken from blue sky 😭 i hit post and then immediately went "aw fuck thats from that fanfic. oh well no ones going to recognize that + ill change it when the time comes for me to genuinely write that scene" but NO YOU REMEMBERED WHAT !!!!!! i have been hashtag #exposed. its the end for me and my oc blog with 5 followers. Anyway

-there is something in here with you 😌

-"im assuming its evie" but is it though :) are you sure thats what that is :) what if its just a manifestation :) of source files and your own being :) reconciling your old and current selves into an entity that thinks its eveline but knows its you :))) haha what if <- insane about evie.exe and what she actually is + the role she plays in the story

-its ok cherry only dies a little bit (and then a lot) (and then not at all) . as for what "live" means. well. hm

the thing is that there were two people in there-- two people who bore witness to so many lives, who tried so hard to find someone who would listen, who would understand what they were and what they had become. both were living, at some point, and were now reduced to digital files and lines of code. and one of them reached out to everything around them and said HELP ME PLEASE DON'T FORGET WHAT THEY DID and the other reached out to the other and said itll be okay, we've done this before. and both were just as much file and code as the other in this state. so, one had to get out alive when they were eventually woken up. someone had to push the other back into the body they left behind. someone had to wake up when they were fixed.

and cherry did not get to make that choice. they were too dead and dying to make that choice anyway.

and what do you do when something sacrifices itself to let you exist? you live.

because what other option is there.

#im fucking this transgender robot up so much man. its so fun #thank you portrait of a blank slate - lovejoy and robot writes a love song - pup for being the insp here lol !!!!!! songs of all time #meta #cherry #evie.exe #idiot synergy #ask #oh and andromeda - weyes blood for evie.exe lol

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jacer101 · 2 years

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Once Again

I’m here again. God damn I’m tired of coming here. I don’t know, it feels like a shot to my pride. Like this is the last resort, whenever I come here I can’t help but feel like a bitch. Though I guess whether I show up here or not I’ll feel like that, so I can’t really blame this hell hole. Kendrick needs to hurry up and drop, I need a distraction desperately. I need an excuse or an escape. An outlet or something. I’m so tired of it, being treated like I don’t get it, being treated as an outlet, hell maybe just being treated in general. I don’t get why I’m not content as is. I have great friends, a good life, a promising future, yet I’m still discontent. Is it an issue with my pride? Is it an issue with deserving? I fucking hate it. I feel almost sick, and I can’t tell if it’s hunger, exhaustion, or just an overall nasty feeling. Apparently I’ve been angrier as of recently, and I wish that wasn’t the case. Hell I hate that that’s the case. Why do I feel so weak? Why do I even have to come here as an outlet? Y’know, yesterday talked to a few friends and felt like a bitch for being stuck up on a girl I didn’t even really date, but today it’s a completely different type of feeling like a bitch. Like what would it take to satisfy me. And why is it that I want things that aren’t an option for me. And the worst part is when people talk to me like I don’t know these things. Had a conversation with one of the friends earlier, and they brought up my raised hostility and asked if everything was cool. I said yeah, just dealing with what I normally am, and they went into some rant about how I should be my first priority, and if my actions are harmful to myself, regardless of if they help or satisfy another, I shouldn’t do them. And it’s aggravating because like- do you think I didn’t already know that much? I know what I do is self destructive. I know some of the people I talk to are harmful. But it’s really not that simple. I wish it were but it’s not. And even if it was do you realize how much of a step that’d be? How difficult of a step that’d be? Why can’t I cut out thoughts. Why can’t I cut out people? Why can’t I cut out feelings? All of them can go fuck themselves. There’s no “Well I don’t matter so I’ll do harmful things to benefit others” bullshit, because that wouldn’t be true. Just no type of motivation or strength to actually put myself on that pedalstool. That is definitely not how you spell it but whatever. I just don’t know man, maybe I’m getting burnt out. Maybe I’ve finally gotten into a corner and don’t like any of my options. All I know is if something doesn’t change soon I’m gonna do something stupid. What that is I’ve got no fucking clue, but I’m already below rock bottom, no matter what I do it doesn’t matter much. Shit forget rock bottom at this point I’ve started boring into the rock. Pockets full of sediment, dug up to my ankles. Doubt that made much sense, but it did in my mind, it’s just what came out when I started typing. I’d love to say I need control, but I know control is something you never get. Forget control. Forget all of that shit. At this point I don’t even give a fuck what happens. I just want this shit to stop. This unending exhaustion. This never-dying boredom. This constant sickness. Why do I feel like I could pass out at any moment. If something doesn’t happen soon I swear I’m gonna do something I regret. Nothing dangerous, but something that won’t pay off nicely.

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dodo-begone · 3 years

Text

Beware the Beast

Pairing: Yandere!Philza x Reader

Request: Maybe some yandere!philza headcanons? You don’t have to!

Word Count: 2k

Warning: yandere, swearing, talk about kidnapping, depression (kinda detailed on that aspect)

A/n: I accidentally turned this into a story- i really need to stop doing that. But I just couldn't resist! Also sorry if Phil is OOC. And this isn't proofread. We die like men here. Can be perceived as platonic or romantic.

This man has lived many years, lost so many loved ones. He’s getting tired of this cycle. It’s truly exhausting. You start to care about the world less. After a while, you start to see too many similarities in things, making it hard to look at. So he starts to close his heart to others. It’s just easier that way, for both parties. Saves him from the heartbreak and them from… well, him. He also stops caring for himself. After all, he’s literally immortal. Nothing can kill this man, so neglecting some self care routines every once in a while wouldn’t hurt…

But this becomes such a bad habit of his. He barely cares for himself after a while. It’s hard to find the energy when it isn’t going to matter in the end. Nothing matters anyways. Every action will always prove fruitless in the end. So what’s the point in doing something so... small if it takes this much energy? If a past version of himself saw Phil now, they’d be disgusted. Telling him to just get up and care for himself. Come on, you’re immortal. Nothing can kill you. Just do this.

He’s a mess when you two meet. His platinum-blonde hair was mostly neat, a little shaggy. It was obvious that he just got himself cleaned up a bit. One can only do so much about deep eyebags, dull hair, and lifeless eyes on such short notice.

You were introduced to him through Ghostbur. Phil was overjoyed that Ghostbur was making more friends. Though much less pleased when Ghostbur insisted that he’d bring his new friend over to meet Phil. Oh come on Phil, you’d just love them. They’re so nice! What tortured Philza more than his first interaction with you? His conversations with Ghostbur about you. He’d just prattle on about things you and him did, about how much fun you two had and how nice you were. Always nice.

And you were nice, an absolute sweetheart. But much too perky for Philza’s liking. You two had been chatting for quite a while when Ghostbur silently leaves you two together. Well, you’re chatting. Phil is just listening to you, hoping that you’d leave at any moment. Some topics were brought up; they were mostly some small icebreakers to get acquainted more.

When your past was brought up, you’d always paint this fucking picture-perfect past. So peaceful. God, the envy he had of you, of the peace you experienced in your life- He felt bad for it, honestly, he did. But he just wished he could’ve had even a fraction of the prosperity you spoke about. For someone living in the DSMP, you had a relatively easy and steady life. No war, no major or sudden loss or anything of that sort. A perfect life.

After that, you just kept coming back. Why? Why are you coming back? Are you here to taunt him for the life he lived? For the life he’ll never have? Is some god sending you as a punishment? A living example of everything he gave up, had to leave behind. That’s what he believed, anyways.

That was far from your intentions. You saw how he was in your first meeting; jumpy yet dissociating from reality. An oppressive, glum aura seemed to just emanate him. So downtrodden and dead inside, yet so obviously alive on the outside. It hurt to see him like that, as you went through something similar. You had no idea how long he’d been like that, but you decided that you’d help him in any way that you could.

You tried to make it a daily thing. Everyday you’d go to Phil’s house around midday to afternoon. You two would talk for a bit, but you’d couldn’t help sprinkling your questions in. Have you eaten yet, mr. Philza? Have you had water today, mr. Philza? Have you preened your feathers, mr. Philza? Have you bathed today, mr. Philza?

Your questions irked Phil. Everyday, without fail, you’d come and talk to him. It’d be small talk at first; what the weather was up to that day, some light politics, Tubbo’s new adopted son. Small. Yet you’d always bring up his self care. He was a fcking grown man. He could take care of himself. What’s worse? You’d pester him to care for himself in that instant if he even showed a small sign of negligence. And you’d stay the entire time, making sure he did everything. And then you’d always add “mr. Philza” on the end. It was a sign of respect, yet it upset him so much. But he couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was.

Though it was annoying, it got him in the habit of caring for himself. It was only to stop your pesting! That’s the reasoning. The only reason. It wasn’t because you’re congratulating and giving him treats when he remembered to care for himself. Or you petting his wings… Those were only bonuses! He swears!

It becomes more steady as time goes on; you go and visit Phil, you talk with Phil and see if he’s caring for himself, and if he was, you’d reveal a delicious treat from within your enderchest. You two would talk while munching on the food, having fun sharing what your pasts were like. Well, more like yours. Phil didn’t really talk about his.

But he still seems so cold, disinterested. Even with how long you’ve been going over for. Like he’s only listening to what you’re telling him. If he’s even listening. And seeing how he interacted with others like Techno and Ranboo, it really disheartened you. He was so much more lively with them, more natural. Loud laughing and silly little antics. It only took a few small, insignificant depression episodes for your self doubt to finally debilitate you. Though it only really affected your contact with Phil; he was a big insecurity of yours.

So you start to distance yourself. You were hurting and saw yourself as a bother to Philza. It would’ve been better if you just didn’t try to talk to him anymore. He’d be so much happier without you bugging him all the time. All of this sudden, open time gives you much more empty hours. There was nothing to do. So you did what you could; you went out to make or strengthen friendships. It was so nice. You never realized how everyone on the smp was so nice. Maybe they weren’t as bad as Phil was making them all out to be…

Philza was upset the first day you weren’t there. You were such a steady element of his day. You were like the very air he breathed; it was extremely hard to live without you. He never noticed before how much he needed you. Yes, he knew that he really enjoyed you, saw that you were a pillar, a constant in his life. He came to enjoy your visits, but hadn’t realized how dependent he became because of them. It was day three when Phil started to worry about you. Why hadn’t you come to talk with him, like usual? He’s taking care of himself, just for you, just like you kept insisting he do. And he made you some cake.

He knew he was acting odd, lovesick even. His love for you was toxic, extremely so. It wasn’t healthy, yet he couldn’t care less anymore. You were like his nicotine to a smoker; he couldn't live without you being in his life. His everyday life. So after some debating, he finally went out to look for you.

Traversing the nether wasn’t too bad, but still a tedious walk. He was stuck in his mind the entire trip there, wondering where you could be and what you could be doing. Maybe you got caught up in making something. A redstone project? That’d be pretty cool. Or maybe moving? No, if you were, you’d have told him. But that didn’t stop him from speeding up just a wee bit. Just to make sure you were actually still on the smp.

His mind was racing, thinking of any possibility of what you were doing. And his mind eventually hit something that absolutely terrified him; you could be sick, injured, or dying. It felt like the world just fucking stopped. This was a sudden loss of contact and you still hadn’t come to talk with him. So that… that means there’s a high probability of you being in danger.

He ran the rest of the way to the main part of the smp. When he came out of the portal, he frantically looked around for any sign of you. For your house. Then it hit him; he had no idea where you lived. You only mentioned it being cold where you lived, just like where he lived. So that most likely meant Snowchester. He started running toward the cold nation

On his way to Snowchester, he observed his surroundings. A little bit. He had to get to you, keep his eye on the prize. And he was glad that he looked around. There you were, on another part of the prime path.

He was overjoyed to see you, especially doing so well. Soon he came to a stop. Just floored by the fact you were there, in front of him. Frantically he tried to view you as best he could, looking for any sign of injury or illness.

Now he couldn’t come across as clingy or desperate. That wasn’t how you knew him. You know him as Philza; the kind but a mild social recluse. Not really going out to others unless he needed something or he was needed.

So he walked over to you, trying his best to look nonchalant. Like he wasn’t just desperately searching for you a moment ago. He called out to you and guess what happened? You started to walk away. He was stunned. Did you just ignore him? No, you must not have heard him. It was kinda windy out at the moment.

Logically he did the best option, following you. He had no clue where your destination could be. You were going to a different area of the smp than he had been. My how the smp changed since the destruction of L’manberg. He knew it changed, but it seemed so much bigger than what you described.

He didn’t exactly pay attention to where you were indirectly leading him. That was until a flash of movement caught his attention. Snapping out of it, he looked to see what could’ve been going on. Who could’ve been there. And what he saw before him was a terrible sight.

Quackity stood by your side, animatedly chatting with you. Phil was confused as to why you were talking to Quackity of all people. You two recently talked about how Quackity was problematic and arrogant. If you knew that, then why were you talking to him?

Awkwardly he watched you. Not within earshot, but where he could keep an eye on you and Quackity. And Quackity was looking at Phil too. His eyes spoke volumes; Quackity wasn’t pleased that Phil was there. Boy was that sentiment shared. It was tense between the two, yet you still seemed oblivious to what was going on.

Then Quackity said something, putting his hand on your shoulder and leading you somewhere else. But gave one last look at Phil, one that just spoke “fuck off”. Phil wished he could’ve told Quackity the same. To get him away for you.

Quackity’s action sparked a thought in him. A reason as to why you hadn’t come to talk to Phil; Quackity must’ve kidnapped you! Yes, that’s why you hadn’t come. It makes so much sense. Quackity knows you and most likely knows you talk to Phil.

With how easily you tell Phil of the people you’re talking to, he doubts that the behavior would just change. But that’s what must’ve gotten you in so much trouble; you were too trusting, too kind-hearted. You gave Quackity a chance and he was stealing you away, imprisoning you. You needn’t worry dear, he’ll rescue you from that foul man.

#tw: yandere #c: phil #dodo writing #mcyt x reader #philza x reader #dream smp x reader #yandere #yandere philza #yandere dream smp #dsmp shipping #tw: swearing #yandere x reader #yandere philza x reader #c: quackity #tw: depression #tw: mental health

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likeshipsonthesea · 3 years

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mianmian gets to the lan sect lectures, discovers very quickly that every one of her peers has decided to use this time to figure out how quickly they can get into bed with someone of the opposite sex, and decides almost immediately that she has to pick a suitably unattainable guy to have a crush on.

the thing is, mianmian is lanling jin’s head disciple. she is capable, intelligent, and very very gay. the last of these things she isn’t exactly keen on telling people yet for a variety of reasons up to and including jin zixuan will be so awkward and stubbornly supportive about it and she doesn’t know how to deal with that yet

so when her friends giggle over the other young masters and finally turn to mianmian-- who’s trying to memorize at least some of the fifty-thousand rules before their quiz tomorrow--and they ask her, “who do you like, mianmian?” she says the name that she carefully picked out of a handful of options.

“lan-er-gongzi,” she says, without looking up from her textbook, and she assumes that will be the end of it.

lan wangji is both incredibly attractive and unrelentingly resistant to all attempts to flirt with him. she, like half the other female cultivators, can moon over him (or pretend to moon over him) all they want and nothing will come of it. it’s perfect. she’s a genius. the worst she’ll have to do now is pretend to be infatuated with him when her friends start gossiping. it’s fool proof.

spoiler: it’s not

it’s not, no, because her friends are horrible and immediately start gossiping about it to everyone, and usually mianmian wouldn’t care but then jin zixuan finds out. jin zixuan, whose marriage complex is being brought to center stage with the forced proximity to his bride-to-be. jin zixuan, who for some reason decided he has to live his stolen crush-addled youth vicariously through his only real friend that isn’t related to him. jin zixuan, who for some godforsaken reason takes it upon himself to contrive situations for mianmian and lan wangji to be alone together incessantly.

it unfortunately takes mianmian longer than she would like to figure out what’s happening. she’d give herself a break for it-- she was being responsible and studying, thank you very much-- but she doesn’t have much sympathy for her own stupidity seeing as she’s currently locked in a section of the lan library with the second jade of lan

and suddenly, suddenly she’s just so fucking tired. of studying, yeah, the tests here are brutal and there’s no one to bribe to make sure she doesn’t lose points on stupid things, but also tired of lying to the people she loves and tired of training this hard and being an amazing cultivator only for people to care more about her eventual marriage-- to a man of all things!-- and also, let’s be real here, she’s been in lectures with beautiful capable intelligent women for like months and she’s losing her gay ass mind

and so maybe, possibly, as she’s locked in a library with a clearly confused and annoyed second jade of lan she kind of, momentarily, loses it and rants all of this at his steadily widening eyes

at the end of it, she realizes with no small amount of panic that she’s just confessed not only her attraction to women but the fact that she’s been letting wen qing’s ears of all things distract her from her studies. if anything, she’s sure lan wangji will fault her for inattention

but the second jade of lan, after a drawn-out moment filled only with mianmian’s labored breathing and rising panic, simply says, “i understand.”

mianmian stops. she squints. she tilts her head. she squints some more. lan wangji’s ears go pink and just like that she realizes -- “you’re a cut-sleeve.”

lan wangji’s ears go even pinker. he doesn’t nod, or agree, or outwardly react in any way, but mianmian is a capable, intelligent cultivator, and she’s sure of it.

mianmian sighs with a relief she didn’t know she could feel. “thank the gods.”

lan wangji doesn’t seem to know what to make of this response, or mianmian’s increasingly frequent trips to the library following their conversation, or mianmian’s staunch determination to befriend the guy, but that’s alright. mianmian is old hat at befriending awkward sect heirs by this point.

it’s not like lan wangji expressed any desire for her friendship, but the prospect of not being the only one with absolutely no interest in the straight shenanigans happening at gusu lan summer camp is enough to let mianmian ignore his obvious confusion. lan wangji is a great listener and only sometimes blushes when mianmian waxes poetic about the beautiful women she’s forced to surround herself with every day

“no but you don’t understand,” mianmian insists, alone in the library with lan wangji, “jiang-guniang asked me to help her with a sword form. i put my hands on her waist. i said something idiotic bc she was so pretty and right there and then she laughed. lan wangji. i’m in love.”

“yesterday you were in love with wen-guniang,” lan wangji says as he impassively turns a page in his book. “has this changed?”

“no, i’m in love with both of them. all of them. lan wangji. they’re all so pretty all the time. it’s horrible.”

lan wangji presses his lips into a firmer line, which mianmian’s come to understand means he’s repressing a smile. “i’m sorry to hear it brings luo-guniang such trouble.”

mianmian groans, fairly undignified, but that’s a lost cause with lan wangji at this point anyway. “i swear, if jin zixuan says one more bad thing about her i’m going to punch him and marry her myself.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” which mianmian takes to mean that he supports her in this line of thinking, which she finds both quite sweet and ridiculously funny.

grinning, she teases, “lan-er-gongzi, if i do end up marrying jiang-guniang, will you bear witness to our elopement?”

lan wangji’s lips press again, this time in the way that means he’s repressing a frown. “jiang-guniang’s brothers wouldn’t allow for an elopement,” he says.

mianmian huffs. “as if yunmeng or lanling will deign to host our wedding.”

lan wangji appears to ponder this for a moment before he says, “gusu will host it,” and it’s at that moment that mianmian realizes she’s actually gone and fucking befriended the second jade of lan.

what is her life.

of course, it’s not long after that that she goes to find jin zixuan and explain that she can’t make their weekly sparring match today because she has plans with lan wangji (jiang yanli tenderly brushed some of mianmian’s hair away from her forehead while they were working on sword forms and if mianmian doesn’t tell someone about it she’s literally going to explode) and she’s trying to be as polite as possible only for jin zixuan to scoff and pout (”i don’t pout”) and say, “i never took you for one of those women who throw themselves so wantonly at a man”

it’s only for having been friends with this absolutely horrible communicator for most of her life that she doesn’t immediately punch him in the face. “what did you just say to me,” she demands, but jin zixuan just sets his jaw and looks away, flushing down his neck in the way his mother describes as unbecoming and--

and mianmian suddenly realizes that her ridiculous best friend is jealous of lan wangji.

(in a friend way, of course, he’s like her brother, the one time his mother implied that he ought not get too close to women in case it jeopardizes his betrothal to jiang yanli, he insisted he didn’t have any female friends repeatedly as his mother delicately danced around outright saying mianmian’s name until finally she broke and jin zixuan was basically like huh?? mianmian doesn’t count?? she made me eat dirt like six times when we were kids)

the sheer ridiculousness of jin zixuan, to set her up with a guy and then get jealous when she spends all her time with him

and fuck her, but she loves her stupid awkward ridiculous sect heir best friend and she doesn’t want him to think she’s gone and left him for someone else (gods know jin zixuan’s loyalty complex rivals his marriage one (on second thought the two might be connected)) and so, after making a few quick decisions, mianmian grabs her stupid best friend by the wrist and pulls him to the library

he protests all the way there, but he’s been letting her drag him wherever she wants since they were five and it isn’t as if he’s going to break the pattern now. she drags him to the library and sits him down across a startled lan wangji and then finally breaks and gushes about jiang-guniang’s fingertips brushing her forehead and doesn’t look at jin zixuan once the whole time

lan wangji, on the other hand, sends jin zixuan frequent glances, as if worried on mianmian’s behalf, which is super sweet and also how the fuck did mianmian get two awkward sect heirs to care about her platonically wtf. she spares a thought for her poor auntie, who would’ve loved to have a sect heir care about her niece in much less platonic ways.

at the end of mianmian’s rant, jin zixuan is blinking quite a lot. “you like women?” he asks. he’s always been a bit slow on the uptake. mianmian nods. “you like jiang-guniang?”

mianmian shrugs. “more or less. she’s just really pretty and i’m dying about it. it’s fine.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” sympathetically and jin zixuan continues to gape.

mianmian winces. “you’re not going to be weird about this, are you?”

jin zixuan shakes his head quickly. “no, no-- of course not, i--you know that i--you’re my best friend, i don’t care--what does it matter to me, who you want to--to touch your hair.”

it’s probably the most awkward sentence he’s said to her in years, but possibly more articulate than she’d been expecting. it makes her tear up regardless and she punches him in the shoulder to hide it, and that’s basically how the three of them start hanging out in the library nearly every day after lecture.

sometimes they go to the sparring ground, bc who’s better sparring practice than the second jade of lan? and sometimes (once or twice) mianmian manages to convince lan wangji to join her and jin zixuan for lunch in caiyi town when they don’t have lecture, but mostly they meet in a secluded part of the library where mianmian can rant about how pretty all the women at lectures are, jin zixuan can turn pink whenever she mentions jiang-guniang, and lan wangji can “mn” and nod sympathetically at all the right parts

and mianmian thinks that’s going to be the end of it, they’re just going to be friends now and everything else will move on as usual, bc by some ridiculous trick of fate lan wangji and jin zixuan seem to like each other. which makes sense in hindsight bc they’re both awkward sect heirs who care about cultivation and people a lot even if they’re not great at showing it

(and he’d never say it but mianmian thinks jin zixuan’s easy acceptance of her liking women is probably the first time lan wangji’s ever seen someone accept that kind of thing before (maybe, possibly, other than his brother, lan xichen seems really cool, even if he does smile kind of intensely at mianmian whenever he happens upon her hanging out with his little brother.))

so they’re friends, they’re unexpected friends, and sometimes lan wangji even makes jokes in that dry deadpan way of his and sometimes jin zixuan doesn’t completely trip over his own words and manages to act like a normal human being and mianmian gets two idiots to care about and a perfect place to vent her womanly frustrations, and she thinks that’s the end of it and then wei wuxian accosts her after lectures one day

“do you like lan zhan?” he asks accusingly, eyes narrowed to slits. “what am i even asking, of course you like lan zhan, but do you like-like him?”

mianmian thinks sadly to herself that she’s much too into women to be dealing with all these men’s emotional problems. “lan wangji is my friend,” she says, carefully sidestepping wei wuxian, who continues to squint at her suspiciously. really, he’d been amusing when he flirted with her, but this? this is just ridiculous.

“does he know that?” wei wuxian asks. “because if he doesn’t, that’s just leading him on, and it’s really not nice to--”

“lan wangji knows we’re friends,” she says, trying to enunciate to get her point across clearly. “you can ask him, if you don’t believe me.”

wei wuxian squints a moment longer before he turns and flounces off. mianmian thinks this is the end of it until she’s accosted again after dinner with, “he said you were friends!”

for some reason, wei wuxian seems even more troubled by this than earlier. mianmian tries to suppress her eyeroll. “i told you he would?”

“but how,” wei wuxian says, suddenly whining. “i’ve been trying to be his friend for months and he refuses to acknowledge me.”

oh, mianmian realizes with a quickly dawning horror. she and lan wangji are not the only cut-sleeves at cloud recesses this summer. (she has suspicions, of course, but no confirmations on any of the others, but this. wow.)

she also realizes, decides really, that she has enough repressed sect heirs in her life and she cannot deal with wei wuxian’s cut-sleeve crisis or his evidently large attachment to lan wangji right now. she turns decisively and walks the fuck away. not her problem.

the lectures end eventually, of course, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to lanling with a horde of golden robed disciples, freshly deflowered and not all together more learned. it’s what, she thinks grimly, their sect leader would want.

the first few weeks go by and she realizes that she’s missed unloading about her frequent and fast falling-in-loves. jin zixuan just doesn’t sympathize right, bless him, and so mianmian takes to writing letters. she sends two without receiving a reply and just starts to write the third when a letter with the gusu symbol is delivered to her room.

she’s almost expecting to find a single mn written on the page-- she would’ve been delighted with just that, actually, the sheer hilarity of such a thing-- but instead she finds several pages filled with lan wangji’s perfect calligraphy.

it’s more than he’s ever spoken out loud, but it seems that propriety dictated that he return mianmian’s extensive letter with one of his own and he’s done so admirably. he responds to the events mianmian detailed in her letters-- most succinctly summarized as, woman are gorgeous and i’m dying-- and then writes about his own life in cloud recesses. apparently, he went on a little night hunt with wei wuxian and also nie huaisang and jiang cheng were involved? seriously, mianmian misses out on all the fun.

he’s also apparently taken in some rabbits, which mianmian immediately decides she needs to see. lan wangji, sitting prim and proper, with a bunch of rabbits in his lap? amazing. wei wuxian would die on sight, she’s sure of it.

he also ends his letter with a warning about qishan wen that has mianmian frowning. she takes it to jin zixuan who reads the paragraph and frowns. “i’ll talk to my father about it,” he says, which she can tell by his hunched shoulders he doesn’t expect to do much.

“talk to your father’s general too,” she suggests, because that man at least thinks with his head and not his dick.

jin zixuan nods but doesn’t hand back the letter. he skims it instead with a barely concealed surprise at lan wangji’s previously hidden expansive vocabulary. mianmian snorts and grabs the letter back. “you can write to him yourself, you know.”

jin zixuan flushes down his neck. “i know!” he insists and then turns and runs away because he’s a coward. mianmian shakes her head, smiling. what an idiot.

still, another week goes by and a letter arrives from gusu and, when mianmian takes it, assuming it’s for her, she finds it addressed to jin zixuan in lan wangji’s impeccable calligraphy and she grins to herself like an idiot. look at jin zixuan, making friends

(she suddenly understands why lan xichen gave her all those intense smiles during the lan lectures)

they go on in this way, writing letters to lan wangji from lanling. sometimes mianmian steals jin zixuan’s letters before he sends them so she can squeeze in some ranting in the post script without wasting a whole second thing of paper, and lan wangji replies dutifully, more verbose than he ever was in person, and it’s nice okay, like. she and jin zixuan have been best friends since they were kids but neither of them has ever been any good at listening and lan wangji is just so honest and earnest in everything, like they didn’t realize that people outside of lanling were actually not always plotting your downfall??? who woulda thunk

and then of course the wens go and ruin everything. they go to the wen lectures bc jin guangshan doesn’t want to “anger our trading partner” like the guy isn’t obviously going to burn carp tower to the ground the first chance he gets, and mostly mianmian and jin zixuan are just vaguely annoyed and put out about it

then lan wangji shows up with a broken leg and a burned sect and they are ready to murder some dudes

after years of breaking in and out of carp tower she and jin zixuan are old hats at this breaking and entering stuff and they manage to sneak into lan wangji’s guest quarters and tend to his wounds, ignoring all his silent glares and ranting furiously about how they’re going to murder wen chao by making him choke on his own dick (mianmian) and how they’re going to war with the wen sect even if he has to threaten his father with acknowledging all of his bastards as proper siblings in public to do it (jin zixuan)

lan wangji just says “mn” and makes various muted, distressed expressions, but mianmian thinks he’s touched.

“are your brother and uncle alright?” she asks, when she’s set his broken leg and forced pain medication down his throat.

“brother escaped with our sacred texts,” lan wangji says. “uncle is... unwell.”

mianmian knows lan wangji hates touch but the way he says it, with this horrible little frown, emoting more than she’s ever seen him, his barely suppressed anger and grief literally making his hands shake into fists, mianmian can’t help it, she hugs him. “we’ll make them pay,” she swears into his shoulder, ruining the lines of his robes with how she clutches at them. “i promise you.”

jin zixuan awkwardly pats lan wangji’s shoulder, which is a lot for him and mianmian spares a moment to be proud of his growth.

unfortunately, wen chao seems to delight in torturing lan wangji on his injured leg and lan wangji refuses to show weakness, which both impresses mianmian and pisses her the fuck off. she approaches wen qing (and her still gorgeous ears, sigh) and asks her to tend to lan wangji, since she’s like actually a doctor. wen qing does bc she’s beautiful, intelligent, and kind and mianmian spends most of that night sighing deeply as she relates this to a significantly drugged lan wangji

the cave of the xuanwu goes about the same as you’d expect. wei wuxian saving her from getting her face branded off is pretty rad of him, though he could’ve just like knocked the brand away instead of throwing himself in front of it but whatever, you do you boo. when lan wangji gets left behind the two of them don’t even have to wait for jiang cheng to grumble and ask for their help, they’re already on their way to carp tower for an army, thank you very much

when they rescue wei wuxian and lan wangji and lan wangji immediately turns to walk back to cloud recesses on a broken leg mianmian says, “fuck no, that’s not happening, you’re getting medical attention and then someone will fly you back home, okay, wtf wangji, sit down.”

and lan wangji is a stubborn bitch so obvs he’s like no but he’s also severely starved, dehydrated, and injured, so it’s not like he can just shake off mianmian holding him down and this goes on long enough for wei wuxian to wake up and see mianmian touching lan wangji, and something in his poor little brain just like breaks and he demands says, “lan zhan, come back to lotus pier with us.”

his argument, as he explains it, is that lotus pier is closer (it’s not; they’re just as close to carp tower as lotus pier) and that it’s closer to gusu for when lan wangji has to return home (it’s not; same deal) but then jiang cheng starts yelling, possibly in support possibly not mianmian’s not sure, and jin zixuan starts getting awkward, probably about the whole golden army behind him bc he’s a nerd and hates being overdressed at functions (this is basically the same thing), and mianmian looks at lan wangji and she sees--

something. she isn’t sure what exactly, but lan wangji looks at wei wuxian as he argues with his brother and he presses his lips into a thin line in the way that means he wants to smile and mianmian thinks, oh. maybe wei wuxian isn’t completely unrequited in his lan wangji obsession.

growing up in lanling, she knows how to use information to her advantage, so she immediately says, “young masters wei and jiang, what a great idea. lanling’s disciples would be pleased to accompany you and second young master lan to lotus pier to ensure everyone’s safe arrival.”

everyone splutters, indignant, confused, awkward (jiang cheng, wei wuxian, and jin zixuan, respectively) but lan wangji narrows his eyes at mianmian and doesn’t try to convince her to let him walk to gusu again, so she counts it as a win.

sect leader jiang and his wife seem surprised and annoyed, respectively, to be taking in so many guests, but sect leader jiang merely smiles pleasantly and directs them to some guest quarters and mianmian and wei wuxian ask, simultaneously, for doctors to tend to lan wangji and wei wuxian makes a face at her and mianmian sighs to herself that she really is too gay to be in the middle of his thing with lan wangji.

turns out, walking a lot and fighting a cannibalistic turtle on a broken leg doesn’t do wonders for healing. lan wangji is also the worst patient ever, he keeps trying to sneak out and get up even though word came from his brother that he’s safe and alright and that cloud recesses is starting to rebuild after qinghe nie and lanling jin came to its aid and pushed out the wen

but with the combined efforts of mianmian, jin zixuan, and wei wuxian (and even jiang yanli at one point, bc who could say no to her soup??) they manage to get lan wangji to just rest for a fucking second, really which results in the jin disciples and lan wangji staying in lotus pier for longer than anyone could’ve expected

mianmian spends most of her time (when she isn’t forcing lan wangji to just fucking stay in bed) working with the jiang disciples, practicing archery, sword forms, and mooning after all the beautiful women here.

(”lan wangji, i know she’s scary, but have you seen madam yu? she could whip me with zidian and i’d thank her” “luo-guniang, please don’t ask madam yu to whip you” OR “lan wangji, i’m almost positive madam yu’s maids are a thing, do you think they’d let me join them just like once” “luo-guniang, could you please pass me my sword?” “why” “i’d like to put myself out of this misery” OR “she made me soup. lan wangji. lan wangji, i know you’re not sleeping, wake up, you have to listen to me, this soup”)

they end up staying so long that when wang lingjiao shows up threatening a child about a kite while sect leader jiang is away, she has a lot more to deal with than madam yu. since none of this had been a “sanctioned visit” no one actually knew that there was nearly an entire troop of jin disciples staying at lotus pier, so when the wens attack they are sorely unprepared for what they’re going to face.

(and ofc lan wangji breaks out of bed heroically and keeps madam yu from whipping wei wuxian, which means they aren’t down one of their most powerful fighters and mianmian has to suffer through the moon eyes they’re making at one another in the middle of a battle no less, she knew wei wuxian had no shame but she’d been hoping lan wangji would have some)

after the wen attack (and defeat) on lotus pier and the jin’s inarguable part in it, the war starts in earnest. lan wangji, after his long rest, heals fine and goes back to gusu to help rebuild his sect and plan for war, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to carp tower to plan as well, ignoring jin guangshan and focusing instead on his general to ensure lanling supplies necessary aid in the war effort

and war is always shitty, of course, and mianmian hates watching her sect family die on the battlefield, hates waiting for updates after every battle to see who’s still alive, hates the politics and jin guangshan trying to wheedle his way out of fighting when there’s fucking lives on the line

(and she could never know, how much easier it is, with yunmeng jiang at its full strength, with one of the brightest minds of their generation there to plot and help, with two of the best fighters not out searching for someone and instead focused on the front)

they reach nightless city after months of fighting and mianmian is ready to just fucking stab wen ruohan herself when they’re suddenly trapped. blocked in on all sides by puppets, their fallen soldiers rising again to turn on them, and it--it looks like they’re gonna die.

“this sucks,” she says to lan wangji, stifling her fear and choking it down. “i never even got to kiss a girl.”

lan wangji just says “mn.”

jin zixuan, beside them, says, “i was an idiot about jiang-guniang.”

lan wangji just says, “mn.”

then wei wuxian pulls out a fucking flute and a-- floating piece of metal? the army of puppets and corpses stops advancing, held in place by-- music, apparently? and wen ruohan emerges from his lair, black energy falling off him in waves, wei wuxian the idiot flies forward to meet him, gets wen ruohan’s hand around his throat for his trouble.

lan wangji yells, “wei ying!” and mianmian thinks, really not fair that lan wangji is gonna get a boyfriend before i get a girlfriend

and then wen ruohan gets stabbed by jin zixuan’s half brother of all people. wen ruohan, along with his puppets and wei wuxian, fall to the ground. lan wangji rushes forward to catch wei wuxian, mianmian runs after him, finds herself in company with jin zixuan and jiang cheng. when they get there, wei wuxian is barely conscious but he’s-- he’s fucking grinning up at lan wangji from the cradle of lan wangji’s arms

“lan zhan,” he says, “you caught me.”

lan wangji nods, says, “mn,” which is basically his equivalent of i’ll always catch you, wei ying.

“really,” mianmian says aloud, “it’s so unfair.”

the aftermath of the war is more annoying than the war itself, what with all the politics and in-fighting and jin guangshan trying to be the biggest dick there ever was. jin guangshan tries to name himself chief cultivator in wen ruohan’s stead but nie mingjue suggests jiang fengmian instead and the lan sect backs him. jin guangshan tries to demonize the wens but at wei wuxian’s loud rebuttal and sect leader jiang’s backing (which is then backed by both gusu lan and qinghe nie) he’s once again shouted down. and then jin guangshan tries to propose to jiang-guniang for his son and the poor woman just seems so awkward and her father doesn’t seem to know what to say and--

mianmian elbows jin zixuan whose eyes widen ridiculously but, after another, harder hit, he suddenly stands. all eyes go to him, which mianmian knows he hates, but he bows to his father, then jiang yanli, and says, “jiang-guniang, forgive my father’s impertinence. this is not the time or place to be making such an offer, but he--” jin zixuan winces visibly. “--he knows of my feelings and wishes to make his foolish son happy. please, do not feel the need to respond.”

then he promptly sits down, flushing down to his neck, and mianmian shares a disbelieving glance with lan wangji from across the horrible nightless city palace room.

she’d really only meant for him to suggest jiang yanli answer privately, at a later time, but wow, jin zixuan really went for it. also no way jin guangshan knows his son has fallen in love with jiang yanli, so nice save face there. maybe he has been paying attention in all of their etiquette and political espionage classes.

jiang yanli flushes way prettier than jin zixuan and nods politely, stands and bows and thanks the jin clan for being considerate in this time of turmoil, perhaps they can discuss this matter at a later date (jin zixuan looks like he nearly faints at this, and mianmian feels vindicated in all her forlorn ranting. overreacting her ass)

when everything has been settled, wen qing has been appointed the new sect leader of qishan wen with promises to return land to those who lost it and pay reparations to the hurt civilians, as well as have the yin iron destroyed for good. during the final ceremony where all the sects have tea and pledge to be loyal to one another (until the next great war, of course) mianmian leans close to lan wangji and sighs, “her ears look even lovelier with her hair tied back by her new sect leader hairpiece.”

lan wangji says “mn” because he’s a cut sleeve in love with wei wuxian and has nothing even closely resembling taste.

mianmian, on her own, decides to make them both happy. before the jin clan departs from nightless city, she goes up to wei wuxian and asks for a moment of his time. wei wuxian seems confused but follows and, once they’re alone, he says, “mianmian, are you about to get me into bed, because i must tell you that i am a respectable young cultivator and you’ll need to marry me before--”

mianmian gives him her best unimpressed look (she’s had much practice with it, thank you jin zixuan) and cuts him off with, “i like women.”

wei wuxian’s eyes go wide. “but you and lan zhan--”

she cuts him off again before he can say something so stupid she has to stop talking to him to refrain from breaking all laws of propriety. “look,” she says, “you’re friends with wen qing. now that she’s sect leader, your brother can’t go after her. i, on the other hand, very much can. if you promise to figure out a way for me and her to get close, i’ll tell you a secret you’ll like very much.”

wei wuxian seems hesitant for all of half a second before he breaks. “tell me.”

“do you promise?”

wei wuxian raises three fingers. “promise.”

“on your sister’s life?”

begrudgingly, wei wuxian nods.

“on her soup?”

“just get on with it!”

mianmian smirks, pushes onto her tiptoes, and whispers the secret into wei wuxian’s ear. with that, she returns to the pavilion where all the sects mingle as they wait to depart, wei wuxian trailing behind her in a daze, his mouth hanging open.

lan wangji, who had been watching since mianmian asked wei wuxian for a moment to talk, frowns nearly imperceptibly. mianmian grins at him and his frown grows.

ah, whatever. she walks over to him, unbothered by the quickly growing alarm in his eyes. once next to him, she turns around to see wei wuxian staring unabashedly. her smile only widens.

“you’re going to thank me for this,” she says.

wei wuxian shakes himself, his eyes focusing, and immediately starts walking towards them.

lan wangji, voice flat but wavering, asks, “luo-guniang, what did you do?”

mianmian laughs, says, “i get to give a speech at your wedding,” and walks away just as wei wuxian reaches them.

(she does, actually, give a speech at their wedding. she may or may not be drunk during it, jin zixuan gets embarrassed for her, and she starts tearing up and has to hide it in the shoulder of her wife’s lovely well-tailored robes. it’s alright, though, wen qing doesn’t mind)

EDIT: now on AO3 with a real fic version from lwj’s pov!

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extasiswings · 3 years

Note

“I felt it shelter to speak to you.” for Buddie

This was...not supposed to be this long but all the recent promo content has been...inspiring. Anyway...on ao3 here.

The first attack happens on a Saturday afternoon.

There’s nothing special about the day, nothing strange. Christopher is at a friend’s birthday party, Buck is off somewhere with Taylor, and Eddie is grocery shopping before he’s meant to meet Ana for an early dinner.

His shoulder aches a little—that’s what he notices first—but that’s not too unusual. It happens sometimes. Even as physical therapy has helped him regain strength and mobility in his arm and shoulder, a high caliber sniper round ripping through his upper chest is no minor injury. Plus, while he’s hardly ancient, he’s not even as young as he was when he was shot the first time, and those bullets left behind their own patches of scar tissue and occasional twinges.

So. His shoulder aches. It’s fine. He ignores it and moves on. Goes through the store, checks out, put his bags in the backseat—

There’s a glare off a window in the apartment building across the street.

Eddie reaches for the handle of his door.

Suddenly, his fingers start tingling, uncomfortable pricks of icy numbness traveling up his hands like they’ve fallen asleep, but shaking them out doesn’t help. And then, without warning, pain lances through his chest, sharp and acute, and he can’t breathe properly, as if his torso has been trapped in a vise that’s slowly tightening more and more.

His vision swims. He sways on his feet, grasping at the door handle with clumsy, numb fingers to keep himself upright.

He feels like—he feels—

He feels like he’s dying. It strikes him with sudden clarity. He’s dying. Dying in a random parking lot—he always assumed he was too young to have a heart attack but the symptoms fit and he’s just—

He can’t. He can’t die. Not when he’s survived everything else. This can’t be—

“Sir?” There’s a woman with a station wagon parked in the space next to his truck and she’s looking at him with no small amount of concern. “Are you okay?”

Eddie’s mouth is so dry and his breathing so irregular that it takes him a moment to respond.

“I—I think I need to go to the hospital,” he grits out as another wave of dizziness threatens to send him to his knees.

She calls 911. Eddie spares a moment to be grateful that the paramedics who show up a few minutes later aren’t from the 118.

As it turns out, he’s not dying. And he didn’t have a heart attack.

“A panic attack?” Eddie’s voice is distant to his own ears as he stares at the ER doctor in disbelief, his stomach flipping with a new kind of dread. “Are you sure?”

“Your symptoms resolved on their own and your EKG is normal, Mr. Diaz,” she replies as she flicks through the screens of his chart on her tablet. “And nothing in your prior history or other recent tests indicates that there’s anything physically wrong with you—you were healthy before you were shot and your recovery has progressed smoothly up to this point.”

She pauses and looks back at him. “Have you...spoken to a therapist? I noticed that your treating physician made a referral for counseling when you were originally discharged, but…”

Eddie clears his throat roughly. “Yeah, no, I, uh...with the PT schedule and everything else going on, I never followed up with that. But I’ve been fine. It never seemed necessary.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Diaz,” the doctor says, “you’re in the emergency room because of an acute stress response in which your brain tricked your body into believing you were in danger to such an extent that you thought you were dying. I’m not sure you’re as fine as you think.”

There’s probably some truth to that. Eddie can admit that much. But that doesn’t mean he needs—he’s been shot before. He’s been in a warzone. He didn’t need therapy to move forward from it then and he shouldn’t now. He can—he can handle this. He can make himself get over it.

He’s already spent months leaning heavily on everyone around him. The thought of not being okay, of asking for more help when he’s finally easing back into working, when things are finally getting back to normal, when they all have their own issues to focus on—

God, it makes him want to throw up.

So...no. He’s okay. Because not being okay isn’t an option.

He’s fine. The panic attack was...a fluke.

“I appreciate the advice,” Eddie says finally. “I’ll think about it.”

He can tell the doctor doesn’t believe him when her lips thin.

“You know, more likely than not, the panic attacks will keep happening if you do nothing,” she points out. “Ignoring this won’t make it go away.”

“I understand,” Eddie replies. “If that’s all, does that mean I can get out of here?”

The doctor sighs. “Sure.”

Eddie’s phone rings while he’s in an Uber on the way back to his truck. It’s Ana.

He swears under his breath as he sees the time—he hadn’t called anyone, hadn’t wanted the hospital to call anyone either, but that means he’s now late for a date that he doesn’t really want to keep after everything and further doesn’t leave him with any good excuses for his absence except the truth which...he doesn’t really want to admit.

Before the shooting, Carla told him to make sure he was following his heart. And he’s been too exhausted and focused on his recovery to really think too hard about that. But now—

For a moment, Eddie considers it. Telling Ana the truth. Showing her some of the dark, messy, ugly pieces of himself. Being vulnerable.

The very idea makes him recoil. Not because he thinks she would run away necessarily, but because he just...can’t.

He can’t. Not with her.

And if he’s that uncomfortable with the idea of letting in someone he’s been dating for over half a year, if he can’t imagine himself ever actually being comfortable with that...then what the hell is he doing?

He calls her back when he gets to his truck.

“Hey—I’m so sorry, I had a little emergency—yeah, everything’s fine now, but I’m not sure I’m up for going out. Can I meet you at your place? ...okay, great. See you soon.”

He may know even less about ending a relationship than he does about dating in general, but he figures he at least owes it to her to end things in person.

Eddie goes to work on Monday feeling fine. Great, even. He sleeps well the night before, he gets Christopher off to school on time, traffic is light enough that he gets to the station early—

Everything is fine. By all accounts it should be a good day.

At least, that’s what he thinks right up until all of them get different emergency alerts sent to their phones and they find out the city’s systems have been hacked. From that point forward, everything is chaos. Damage control. Twenty-car pile-ups because stoplights are being messed with, an outbreak of animals from the zoo when the electric locks on their enclosures released—

Eddie’s fine though. He’s fine. It’s nothing he can’t handle—in fact, he’s usually great with chaos. He’s focused and sure and capable. Nothing else matters but the work, certainly not himself. When he’s busy, he has no time to think about anything else.

The gradually worsening tension in his shoulders can be ignored. The way he has to clench his hands into fists to keep them from shaking in a way he hasn’t had to do since his earliest days in Afghanistan can be brushed off. He doesn’t have time to think about anything but the jobs in front of him, which means he doesn’t have time to think about his own state.

Brush it off, pick yourself up, keep moving forward. That’s what he knows, that’s what he can do.

Except, then they end up at the hospital and—

A medevac helicopter falls off the roof. Bobby nearly joins it. Buck and Eddie barely manage to get him back.

A cold sweat breaks out on Eddie’s brow as Bobby leans heavily against the wall next to the roof access door to catch his breath. His stomach roils. He doesn’t feel fully connected to his own body, caught somehow between present and past, a rooftop in Los Angeles and a desert in Afghanistan.

He breathes in. He tamps down on the rising panic.

Bobby is fine. The helicopter pilots and their patient are fine.

He’s fine. He’s fine.

“Are you okay?”

Eddie jumps at the question, his head whipping around to find the source. Buck’s brow furrows as he holds up his hands.

“Sorry,” Buck says quietly. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Eddie swallows hard and shakes his head. “You’re fine, don’t worry about it.”

He glances toward the door. “You know, I think I’m going to head back down,” he says, hoping Buck won’t notice the fact that he hasn’t answered the original question. “I want to make sure the pilots are holding up alright.”

“I can come—” Buck starts to offer, only for Eddie to cut him off.

“Someone should stay with Bobby,” he replies. He forces a smile as Buck’s eyes search his face. “I’ll be fine.”

Buck glances at Bobby, then back to Eddie before he finally nods.

“Okay,” he says. “But here, take the radio. If anything happens—”

“I’ll let you know.”

Eddie makes it down one flight of stairs before he decides to take the elevator the rest of the way down. The numbers on the top of the doors tick down, down, down—

And then, abruptly, the elevator lurches to a halt, throwing Eddie off balance and into the wall as the lights go out, plunging him into total darkness.

His ears ring from the impact.

He’s trapped. Trapped in a metal box in the dark. A box that could easily become a coffin if the emergency stop failed and sent it careening down to crash at the bottom of the elevator shaft.

Eddie’s breathing speeds up against his will. His chest starts to hurt.

Not again, he thinks vaguely. Not here, not now, not again.

But. He can’t move. He can’t breathe. Some distant part of his mind recognizes that what he’s feeling isn’t real, that he just needs to calm down, but he can’t—

He’s going to die. He’s going to—

The radio crackles in his belt.

“Eddie? Eddie! Can you hear me?”

Eddie’s mind latches onto the sound of Buck’s voice like a lifeline in an ocean of distress. It takes him a moment to make his trembling hands work through their numbness, to remind his fingers how to work the buttons, but eventually, he lifts the radio to his mouth.

“I’m here,” he says. His voice shakes. “I’m in the elevator. It’s—I don’t know which floor. Or if I’m between floors. I don’t—”

He shudders. His eyes close, not that it really matters given how dark the space is already.

“It’s okay,” Buck replies. “It’s okay, Eddie, we’ll find you. We’ll get you out, don’t worry.”

“I don’t want to die here.” It slips out of him before he can pull it back. Buck takes a sharp breath on the other end of the line.

“That’s not going to happen,” Buck says firmly, although his own voice seems less steady than usual. “I would never let that happen. I’ve got your back, remember? Always.”

A shudder rips down Eddie’s spine and he slides against the wall to sit on the floor. The walls still feel too restricting, like they’re closing in on him more each moment that he looks away.

The radio crackles again.

“Eddie. What can I do? What do you need?” Buck asks.

I don’t know. I don’t—I can’t—

“Eddie.” The fear and desperation in Buck’s voice cuts through the fog in Eddie’s mind.

He never wants Buck to sound like that.

“Keep talking?” Eddie replies. “I—just keep talking to me. Please?”

Don’t go, is what he really means. Stay with me.

He’s never allowed himself to say those things though. Not during the early days of the pandemic when they were sharing a bed in Buck’s loft. Not after he moved back home with Christopher and the other side of his bed felt too empty for sleep to come easily. And certainly not after he started dating Ana.

During his recovery, he never had to ask Buck for anything really. Buck was always just...there. Even though he was with Taylor, he was still there with Eddie and with Christopher whenever Eddie needed him. Like he knew somehow. Or maybe as if he needed to be there as much as Eddie needed him there.

Eddie hasn’t looked too closely at any of that. He’s not ready to. It’s too much, too complicated, too—too—

Dangerous.

“What do you want to talk about?”

Eddie swallows hard as his head rests against the wall. As he allows the sound of Buck’s voice to wrap around him like armor. Like home. Insulating him against the panic and isolation.

“Anything,” he says quietly. “Just keep talking.”

And Buck does. He talks about everything and nothing, random facts and stories from his past that Eddie hasn’t heard before, he talks and talks and talks until his voice grows hoarse in Eddie’s ear and the pressure on Eddie’s lungs eases.

Eddie exhales shakily and takes a few deep breaths as he continues to listen, as his body shifts from hyper-awareness and panic to wrung out exhaustion. When Buck finally cuts off, it’s because there’s an ugly screech of metal as the elevator doors are pried open, as light filters back in.

Eddie’s legs are unsteady as he gets to his feet. He trips on the edge of the elevator door when he exits—

Buck catches him before he can fall. Because of course he does.

“Thank you,” Eddie breathes into Buck’s shoulder as he finds his balance.

Buck shakes his head. “I promised we’d get you out, didn’t I? Besides, I—I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“I decided—”

“I shouldn’t have let you,” Buck repeats, low but insistent. His eyes meet Eddie’s and Eddie swallows hard.

“You weren’t okay. Were you?” Buck asks. And Eddie—

He wants to lie. Part of him does at least.

But he can’t lie to Buck.

Not to Buck.

“No,” he confesses. It’s half a whisper. “No, I wasn’t.”

Buck bites his lip and nods once.

“Okay,” he says. “We’ll figure it out.”

And somehow, Eddie believes him.

#chapel writes #prompt fill #letmetellyouaboutmyfeels #buddie #eddie diaz #buddie fic #buddie ff

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Note

I really enjoyed your Nathan fluff 🥺 we love this angry peach fuzz king 👑💖 would you ever write him being comforted after having a nightmare? 💕

First of all, LOL @ “angry peach fuzz king” 🤣🤣🤣

Second of all, here you go! 🧡 I will warn you - I think I forgot the fluff a little bit though. It became more hurt / comfort? More angst than expected? It ends nicely though and comfort is given to Nathan - but only after I’ve subjected him to rattling around in his own head and house for a bit.

Through the looking glass (Nathan Bateman x GN!reader)

Summary: Nathan has nightmares after The Incident. After so long alone, he doesn’t realise how badly he needs a little comfort - and maybe he doesn’t believe that he deserves it.

Author’s note: hopefully this isn’t too similar to All Better. I know they both take place post-stabbing, but I tried to give this a different focus. I know I could have made the nightmares based off of anything given the ask, but this timeline / focus seemed most sensible to explore the character.

Warnings: nightmares following traumatic incident (a stabbing); mentions of blood and injury - not graphic. Self-harm (punching the bag until injury); Body horror if you squint (some gruesome descriptions occurring in-dream, but fairly abstract); swearing; implied alcoholism recovery if you squint; mentions of therapy; Nathan mildly injured in fic; reader offering comfort.

Rating: MATURE for themes mentioned above.

GIF: by @santiagogarcia (this whole gifset is magic- check it out + reblog!)

Nathan wakes up breathless, plastered to the covers by a sheen of sweat - and not in a good way. On instinct, or out of habit by now, or maybe somewhere between the two, his palm slides over his body to the site of the wound.

He is so slick that he half-believes he is soaked with dank, deep blood again, until his fingers trace over nothing more than a half-concave, half-ridged scar. The lack of searing pain is the next point of evidence leading him towards an alternative conclusion. He’s not dying (again).

It’s just another gruesome nightmare.

Although… there is nothing “just” about it.

The nightmares are pretty brutal. Brutal enough for him to wake with ragged breaths and a hammering heart, his sheets dampened and coiled up around him. Enough that it takes effort to sift through the layers of terror and distinguish reality.

With what can only be described as a whimper, Nathan swings his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing himself into a seated position and bracing his head in his hands until his racing heart levels.

In his mind, he’s telling himself to be logical about this. That Ava hasn’t truly arrived to finish the job she started; but logic is not the safe haven it used to be.

She could come back.

She’s still out there, somewhere, and Nathan distinctly got the impression, last time, that she was vehemently not a fan of him.

His hand trembling, Nathan reaches for the glass of water by his bedside, glugging it down so eagerly it spills into his bushy beard.

Since the… accident? Malfunction? Functioning just fine, actually? Failed experiment? Greatest achievement known to man? Attempted murder? (Truth be told, Nathan isn’t quite sure what to call it, so he simply calls it The Incident.)

Since The Incident, Ava has begun to regularly visit him in his sleep.

The visitations are not waning with time. In fact, they are happening more often, not less. They are happening more since you moved into the house.

It’s a bad fucking time to have quit drinking.

You’d been sent by the board. Something about Nathan taking “tortured genius” a slice too literally. Something about him being in isolation too long and needing another human around in the compound.

Well, that’s not technically true, is it? The shit all started when he opted to get social, after all.

Fucking Caleb.

Before that, he was doing just fine.

Nathan doesn’t like it at all - having you here. Being watched. Observed. Having someone monitoring his actions. Waiting for him to either fuck up or prove himself.

Ironic really, considering where he kept Ava. The experiments he ran on her.

She’d probably find it poetic, if she could truly understand such a concept.

At the thought of her, Nathan physically shudders, and reaches for an old vest to haphazardly mop the excess sweat from his skin. Then, he balls up a change of clothes and tracks nude to his wet room, feeling relief as the luke warm water sluices over his skin.

He watches himself in the mirror as he stands there naked. It’s not a vanity thing - at least not any longer. These days, he examines the way his form has changed since it happened. He lost some of his muscle and bulk during recovery, whilst unable to exercise, his arms slightly smaller and his abs softer. His stomach a little more rounded.

There’s also the puckered scar, of course - that permanent reminder of where he was skewered through the chest like a piece of kebab meat.

His gaze travels up over his body, until his eyes settle on his still haunted face. He doesn’t have his glasses on, and somewhere between the blurred vision, misted mirror, clouding steam and sluicing water, his reflected face distorts. It transforms - for the briefest of moments - into her.

Still amped with adrenalin from his harsh awakening, this briefest flash sends a surge of panic zipping through Nathan’s chest, his heartbeat racing so hard he can feel the pounding of blood in his ears.

Fuck, he curses, reaching his arms out to brace himself against the shower wall above him, his body trembling and his head dipping down between the cradle of his broad shoulders as his legs threaten to buckle.

He turns the water cold, until it is practically glacial and thundering on to the back of his neck, subduing this spiking heat.

She really did a fucking number on me, didn’t she?

It’s true though.

Ava is haunting him. When he sleeps - and at other times too.

Nathan didn’t know robots could do that. Didn’t know they could spawn ghosts.

Nathan doesn’t believe in ghosts, of course… but he does believe in trauma and its effect on the brain. He at least concedes that it is natural to continue to feel afraid; but this?

Being dogged by the spectre of her taps into Nathan’s deepest insecurities.

After all, there is nothing a genius fears more than doubting his own mind.

Nothing a God fears more than his own mortality.

And the man? Turns out, there is nothing he fears more now, than dying alone.

With a ragged breath, Nathan towels off and pulls on his grey sweatpants, tugging on his black zip-up hoody over his bare chest. And then, keen not to return to his damp, tangled sheets, he tracks towards the kitchen - mainly for want of any more favourable option.

Of course, he had returned to the compound after The Incident. Something about that many fibre optic cables being a bitch to lay down. Sunk cost fallacy and all that - too much already invested.

But it possibly wasn’t the best choice for his recovery.

Nathan has certainly gotten more used to walking down that hallway since he returned from the hospital, and yet he still finds himself holding his breath until he is free of it. Still finds his pace is just a little faster as he passes through. His gaze deliberately averted from that spot.

Once, you’d found him lying in it.

Lying in that exact spot, his body arranged like a crime scene photo, his eyes closed.

Hey, it’s hardly his least healthy coping mechanism, is it?

What in the fuck are you doing, Nathan?

Re-enacting my death, obviously.

Uh-Kay…. A beat. A devious smile. Shall I get some popcorn?

Absurd as it was, he had laughed. Laughed for the first time since it happened, and, with an extended hand, you had helped him up off the floor.

Still, now that he’s alone, he does not dwell in the corridor, colder and darker as it is without your light in it, and he tries not to think about your face or hers as he pads to the kitchen.

When he arrives though, he bypasses it entirely - heading out on to the decking, the crisp night air soothing his hot skin.

He wants to be outside.

There are too many ghosts in his house now.

He has tried to shake it. Tried to desensitise himself to Ava’s face. Spent longer than strictly necessary poring over footage of her.

He built her. Shouldn’t that take the fear out of things? Not to mention the fact Ava’s face was simply a composite of some manipulable nerd’s wank bank browsing history.

Fucking Caleb.

Still, once Nathan had looked her in the eyes and seen a rage that was all too human, things seemed a hell of a lot different.

Nathan crosses to the punchbag on the deck -lit by creeping dawn- on instinct, or out of habit, or maybe some combination of the two, his unease riling him enough to sock some punches at its midsection. Right at the equivalent site of his corporeal puncture.

He punches so hard that the skin on his knuckle splits, but Nathan doesn’t stop. He throws punch after punch until his hands are scathed and bloodied, and a trail of spit hanging from the corner of his mouth. Until he hugs the bag - the closest thing he has to a warm body to hold - and slides down it, coming limply to his knees, wiping his face on his sleeve.

He stays there, dead eyed and still for some time, the pain in his hands raw and singing. Unpleasant, but better. Better than what he was feeling, and worse all at once.

He considers his tired, cumbersome body, and contemplates remaking the world one more time. Uploading his mind into a machine or some shit, so that he doesn’t have to contend with the fragility and failings of his own existence.

He stays there, until some motion in the interior of the compound causes the light and shadows to dance differently over him, and he looks up to see your figure there, cast in a soft halo of yellowed light.

He tips his head up slightly, opening his mouth as though he might cry out to you for help, but no sound comes out - only a thin, dry croak.

So, instead, Nathan watches you for a moment, moving seamlessly around his kitchen as though it is your own. Maybe it is - more yours than his now.

Observing you like this, through the tall, cinematic windows, it is as though he peers in on another world entirely. Something less resembling a nightmare.

Lighter than that. Something more like a good dream, albeit a good dream that Nathan cannot be part of. One he can only ever watch, from the outside looking in, always fated as he is to be on the other side of the glass.

Truth be told, you haunt him too. You represent everything he could have and yet doesn’t deserve.

You appear in his nightmares and his dreams, in various terrifying and beautiful incarnations. Many variations of which his therapist would have a field day with, he’s sure - or, she would, if he’d ever fucking call her.

When you first arrived here, he was plagued by grotesque visions of you. Grotesque visions of the skin being peeled back from your body. Sometimes, circuitry beneath, and other times, muscle and bone. Sometimes, Ava’s face was buried beneath the chilling slip of your fleshy mask.

Sometimes it is a better dream. Sometimes you save him. Sometimes he saves you.

Sometimes it is a good dream. Ava isn’t there at all. But the good dreams never seem to last for long.

Sometimes you kill him, and sometimes...

The glass door slides open.

“Reenacting your own death again, are you?” you tease, though not unkindly, interrupting the spiral of Nathan’s incessant thoughts.

A lump forming instantly in his throat, Nathan swallows thickly, and looks up at you helplessly with a thin, joyless smile. He snorts as though it’s funny, but it really isn’t. “Over and fucking over.”

You nod once, and, without hesitation, you extend your hand towards him. Your gaze cuts through him as you search his face and he feels suddenly see-through, as if he’s about to be hit with some Shyamalan-esque twist. Was he the ghost all along? Did he die here after all?

If so, is this purgatory because Ava is here too, or heaven, because you are?

Christ. So fucking schmaltzy, Bateman.

After hesitating, Nathan takes your hand and you yank him to his feet, drawing him inside, through the looking glass.

The room seems warm on the other side. It feels… safe.

“What happened?” you ask, as you look down at your joined hands, your thumb painting a smear of red across his split knuckles.

You mean now. What happened now, but Nathan’s mind harks back further than that. In his mind, everything is connected. Every thing threaded to another. This one smear of blood to that weeping flower of red.

The thought -the thoughts, all of them- halt him in place, his feet firmly planting on the ground. Nathan’s hand clenches tightly around yours as though it is a lifeline, as he is cast adrift on this familiar crimson tide, his face growing increasingly angular and stern.

“She...” He swallows, unable to complete that precise thought, his eyes dropping down to his feet.

You turn your body towards Nathan as he croaks, still not letting go.

Your eyes flitting around his face, attempting to search his eyes, you tentatively step closer, sliding your palms slowly over his tense shoulders, feeling them rise with an uneven, stuttered breath as you do so.

He’s so tired. He’s so very, very tired.

And it happens all at once on the exhale.

Suddenly, your arms are tugging him closer, and his face is contorting as a violent smattering of tears beads in his long lashes. You are encasing his body in your embrace and rubbing circles into his back as his buzzed head sags all too willingly toward the junction of your shoulder, your fingers splaying along the smooth flesh at the nape of his neck and pads dancing over the gentle prickle of his hair. You are shushing and soothing and reassuring and squeezing and smoothing and cradling and Nathan can feel it. Can feel his heart race in his chest and…

Finally.

Finally, his heart is not pounding because he is reliving his death.

It is pounding because he feels alive again.

When was the last time he cried, even? The last time someone really hugged him? He doesn’t remember the last time. The serendipitous combination of Nathan willing to be vulnerable, and another being willing to hold space for his pain is an all too rare thing.

There’s a reason -or several - he’s so emotionally constipated, after all.

Fuck. I’m taking a huge emotional shit right now.

Nathan remains in the welcome circumference of your arms longer than is strictly necessary - until the tear trails over the bridge of his nose begin to feel cloying. Until his breaths steady, and until his thoughts and ego creep back in. Until he notices the way his hands are clasped at your waist like claws, fingers sinking into your softness, and he thinks to release you.

Then, he leans away, a weight on his brow making his expression stern.

He waits for you to judge him, another swallow trailing thickly down his throat.

However, your eyes are kind and level, dancing with soft concern. Not with judgement or satisfaction or pity, or with anything he fears.

It is refreshing not to feel so afraid.

Finally.

“She…” Nathan begins again, finally finding courage. All at once his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “She fucking stabbed me.”

You take his words in. You listen.

His “reveal” is simple. Plain and factual. A little indignant. Kinda salty. It’s not overly emotional, or articulate.

But it is enough.

Your eyes narrow, and you nod slowly, trying to understand the true meaning beneath his words.

You even reach up to cup Nathan’s face, his springy beard a cushion beneath your gentle palm as you hold him. “Yeah, genius,” you tease, with a tentative, lopsided smile, dropping your arm all too suddenly, perhaps as you catch yourself. “I got that from context.”

In response, Nathan chucks air from between his teeth, bringing his hand up to comb through his beard - perhaps to obscure his involuntary smile, or perhaps chasing your tender touch, the impression of it left warm on his cheek.

As he brings his hand up, your brows draw together, and you hook his bloodied paw delicately in yours, examining the wound, and leading him gingerly across to the couch as though his whole being might be hurting along with it.

It is.

You order him to stay put while you fetch the first aid kit, and then, in stages, Nathan watches you with fascination as you painstakingly clean and tend to his wounds, without ever being asked to.

He watches you carefully swipe the angry red away from his skin, and, to his overactive mind, it’s all connected. This red is one and the same with the flower of blooming red from The Incident.

Ava hurt him then, and she is hurting him now too.

And you…

“Going to tell the board about this?” Nathan asks, his voice weak and scuffed.

You search his eyes, holding your words back for a moment before answering. Then, you launch them on a big breath. “Fuck the board, Nathan. I told those assholes to stick it.”

Nathan blinks in confusion, shaking his head, his hand flourishing emphatically through the air. “Then… what the fuck are you still doing in my house?”

“Well. I’m… here for you,” you admit, sucking in air through your teeth, your voice shrinking. “If you want that.”

Well, that’s news to him.

Welcome news, perhaps?

You’re not watching him at all, are you? Not observing. Not asking him to evidence his humanity. Not waiting to see whether he fucks up or proves himself.

Instead, you’re seeing him. You’re seeing him and you’re not running.

Nathan had begun to think that maybe he was the nightmare. He’d begun to think he might always be haunted.

Always alone. That he might die that way; again.

And now, here you are.

Nathan thinks about that. He could so easily revert to his old ways, in this moment. Of pride and ego and stubborn independence.

But, perhaps those assholes from the board got a few things right - he’ll admit.

Maybe he had been in isolation too long. Maybe he didn’t need to take “tortured genius” quite so literally.

And so, Nathan almost protests. Almost rejects your presence and your comfort and pushes you away. But the truth is, he’s just so… tired. He’s had so many nightmares, and this time, he’d like to be on the other side of the glass. He’d like to step into that dream.

Nathan takes a deep breath, and releases on the exhale. Releases more than air.

He slowly, ever so slowly, shifts towards you on the couch, angling his body until he can safely dip his head towards your lap, his nose pointed in towards your abdomen and his knees curling around you.

“Th.. this okay?” he asks weakly.

You throw your splayed hands up into the air in surprise as the weight of Nathan settles there, but as he curls his arms around your middle and shuffles closer, you ease into it. You snake your fingers in intricate caresses over his head and neck and shoulders.

“Yeah, Nathan. This is okay,” you soothe gently, voice taut with emotion.

You comfort him.

And finally, Nathan does not need to peel your skin back to know what’s underneath.

He knows you’re not a robot, and that, as your kind touch finds him corporeal, that he is not a ghost.

He closes his eyes. And this time, when he next wakes, he knows that whether the dream is bad or better or good, it doesn’t matter. Because you will be there with him.

He wants you with him.

It’s not at all natural to him, to have you around. For the longest time, he didn’t like it. It didn’t come instinctually, and he has formed no familiar habits.

It isn’t easy - he doesn’t make it easy.

But he wants it to be.

And, in your arms, he can finally dream that it will all work out. What’s more; he can dream he deserves it, too.

#Nathan Bateman #Nathan Bateman x reader #Oscar Isaac #ex machina

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cjjohansson · 3 years

Text

YOU'RE IT FOR ME

SUMMARY ; you and Natasha argue over your mission gone wrong.

supersolider!reader x natasha romanoff

angst/fluff.

fighting/blood/injury/swearing word count;3.4k - this is my first ever attempt at writing anything. im so sorry if its terrible.

As always Steve woke you up at stupid oclock in the morning to brief you on a quick unexpected intel mission. He told you the base you were being sent to has not long been abandoned and if anyone was there, to eliminate the threat like you always do. Lucky for you, you had super-solider serum running through your veins so this mission was simple and easy for you to complete alone. You only had to retrieve some files on HYDRA creating another super-solider serum.

However Natasha wasn’t too happy about you being woken up so early meaning she had to wake up to a cold bed and you were nowhere to be seen throughout the whole compound. She looked around for you everywhere only to end up running quite literally into Steve, he obviously knew who she was looking for and finally spoke up, “Oh, if you're looking for Y/N, they went on a quick mission.”

“What do you mean a ‘quick mission’, they would have come to say bye?” Natasha responded suspiciously due to the fact that you would never leave without saying bye or giving her a quick peck on her lips regardless of how long the mission would take.

“A quick intel mission, the only person I could see who had potential in succeeding was them. Woke them up 3 hours ago, they should be back within 2. They’re fine Natasha, you don't need to worry.” Steve thought to quickly remind her that you were more than capable than going on a mission alone and that you certainly didn't need to be worried about, you’re a super-solider for god sake.

“OK, just next time notify me too when they’re going so I'm not walking around looking.” Natasha walked away straight after that proceeding to the training room to blow off some steam about the fact that you didn’t say bye.

Meanwhile

you had got to the base a little over 2 hours ago, and when Steve told you this base was abandoned you had no idea why you actually decided to believe him. The base was in fact NOT abandoned and within the first 10 minutes of you slowly making your way to the base from the quinjet you was swarmed with at least 10 HYDRA agents. You worked as quickly as you could taking out the threats left right and centre with your guns and some quite literally being thrown straight into some trees. You managed to get the agents down in record time, you was quite impressed with yourself to say the least but you knew you should call for backup, you reached for your comms only to be met with a sickening buzzing sound surrounding your ear drums, you threw your ear piece onto the floor and just continued towards the base. At the end of the day you still had a mission to complete after all.

You finally made your way into the base to see that maybe Steve was right about one thing: the base itself was abandoned but the surroundings were not. “Idiot” you thought to yourself about Steve sending you on a mission with not all accurate information.

You’re making your way through the base using your enhanced hearing for anything that doesn't sound right, guess it's somewhat of your lucky day when you hear nothing so you continue your path down the long narrow corridor to finally reach the head scientists room to gather the files about HYDRAs own knowledge on developing a new form of super-solider serum. You always wondered why people had an obsession with powered and enhanced people but at the same time you understood why. You just wished yours wasn't forced on to you and that you were given a choice but you were soon to be one of HYDRAs secret weapons, but when the Avengers found you, you had just been injected with the serum. The Avengers were infiltrating HYDRA bases when Lokis scepter had been stolen, they found you just in time and took you in straight away.

Plugging in the usb drive to transfer all data, the transfer popping up onto the screen telling you that it would take 10 minutes, “Easy enough.” that's what you had thought until you could hear footsteps coming from down the corridor. Quite heavy, long strides, possibly over 6ft tall, only one person, even better. You made your way to hide behind the door so when it opened you could attack right away, but that never came. Instead a metal arm came crashing through the wall you were standing up against grabbing you by the throat and throwing you half way down the corridor, it took you a moment for you to try and stand up but by the time you was about to stand a fist was already being swung towards your face, keeping you locked on the floor below him. You knew this soldier was like you, you could feel it but you also knew that you might not get out of this fight easily, they were much stronger. That face looked familiar, the blurring of your vision from the hits making it harder to properly see but you knew it was familiar. The beating continued with left and right hooks being thrown against your face, the blood rushing out of new cuts across your face, your busted lip and most likely broken nose. You couldn't give up. You knew that for sure. You managed to find the strength to start dodging the punches coming right at you but you knew you needed to get that drive and get going quickly. Rolling out from underneath the soldier as they went to drive their metal arm straight into your face you grabbed your gun and shot the soldier in the stomach and sprinted back to the room to collect the usb and get going, you knew it was the only way to run rather than end up dying here alone. You finally reached the doors of the base to continue your sprint when you heard that sound of a bullet coming straight out of a gun, it buried itself right into the back of your left leg but you had to keep moving, the blood gushing from your face and now from your leg reminded you to definitely tell Steve to “fuck off” when he comes into your room before the suns even up again. Continuing the sprint, you started to only imagine one thing. That Natasha was going to have your head when you got back to the compound.

You could see the quinjet right in front of you and you had never been so happy to see one so much in your life but just as you was to step one foot onto the jet another two shots were heard behind you, you KNEW this soldier wasn't going to give up and you definitely knew they would keep up with you. The bullets finally lodged themselves into your body, one straight into your right leg and the other straight into your lower back coming out through your stomach. This wasn't good. You were just about on the jet pulling yourself up as the option to stand wasn't even an option anymore, telling FRIDAY to close the hatch and get in the air and back to the compound as quickly as it could and make sure to have medical on stand by as you land. Moving yourself to try and sit in one of the chairs holding pressure to your gunshot wound in your stomach, you heard a familiar voice ring through the speakers of the jet.

“Y/N come in, do you copy?” Natasha. Just as you go to open your mouth to reply your vision starts to blur and all that you manage to croke out are inaudible slurs, until your vision completely goes black.

To say Natasha was pissed off at Steve and you was an understatement. Oh if looks could kill Steve would already be 6 foot under. They stood on the landing pad waiting for the quinjet to arrive back at the compound but what they were expecting was not what they finally saw when the door to the quinjet opened. There you laid on the floor, choking on the air and laying in a puddle of your own blood, paler than anything they had ever seen. Before Steve and Natasha could even make it to the quinjet fully, the medical team were rushing in and putting you on a stretcher taking you straight into surgery. Natasha didn’t even make a move she stood there completely lost with that imagine in her head, but as soon as a doctor shouted you had no pulse it was like she was snapped back into reality her body was on flight mode, she made the move to try and run to you as quickly as possible but Steve had already grabbed her round the waist and was holding back against her vicious punches and kicks shouting at him to ‘let her go or he will regret it’. The sounds of Natashas shouting soon caught the ears of some of the other Avengers, running outside one by one came Wanda, Bucky and Sam. Confused by the commotion until they finally heard the sobs of Natasha in Steve's arms and the puddle of blood in the quinjet, they instantly knew this was about you.

Natasha had been pacing around the waiting room for 2 hours now, everyone telling her, you're ok and the surgery will be over with soon. But they didn't know if you were ok and when the surgery would be over they just wanted Natasha to sit down and stop pacing. Just as Natasha finally took a seat a doctor walked straight in front of them staring at Natasha.

“Are they alive?” Natashas voice coming out weak filled the waiting room, the anxiety from the question entering everyone's mind to know the truth.

“Yes”

They all finally let out a breath none of them knew they were holding. Natasha finally looks down and letting some more silent tears roll down her cheeks, she looks up at the doctor.

“Can I see them?” no one has ever heard Natasha sound so weak and vulnerable, they all knew yous were together, yous never kept it a secret openly flirting in front of everyone and you making it very clear who Natasha was to you at parties when you'd go up to her at the bar and put your arms around her waist and start slowly kissing her neck no matter who she was involved in a conversation with. But no one had ever seen this side of your relationship, the hard side of worrying and panicking when one of you was injured or on a mission. The vulnerable side and lets just say you and Natasha were not ones to let people see you both so small and fragile.

Following the doctor into another room there you laid on the bed your stomach wrapped tightly and also your legs, the bruising on your face a nice bright purple. Your skin had slowly started to have more colour in and Natasha had never been so relieved. She made her way over slowly towards your bed afraid any type of sound would wake you up. She wanted you to rest, but part of her wanted to shout and scream at you for not calling for backup or even just turning around and coming back home. Turns out she wasn't as quiet as the sound of the chair moving wakes you up from your sleep.

The bright lights make you hiss and groan. You make your way to sit up thinking it was all a dream, that is until you feel two sets of hands on each side of your body pushing you down.

“Lay back down y/n, you're hurt.” Natasha, there it is again that sweet voice you've spent months waking up too, but it's different. It sounds broken like she has been crying and is about too again at any given moment. Opening your eyes was a struggle but you finally got there. In the room stood Steve, Wanda, Sam and Bucky and sat next to you ever so gently holding your hand is your Natasha. You go to turn towards Natasha but Bucky catches your eye, everyone sees the hesitance in whether or not you want to finally speak.

“He looked like you.” that's all you manage to choke out before Nat is passing you a cup of water to drink slowly. Everyone starts to look around confused straight from you back to Bucky. Until you finally speak up again.

“The guy that attacked me at the base, thanks Steve by the way maybe next time send two people instead of one into an ‘abandoned’ base, yeah abandoned my arse.” Everyone smiles at your sarcasm but quickly pushes that to the side to ask the question everyone is so desperate to know.

“Babe,what do you mean by he looked like Bucky?” ah, Natashas voice, you simply turned and smiled at her squeezing her hand.

“Well like I said Talia, he looked exactly like Buck. Metal arm, red star. Long black hair. All the facial features are the same but not the eyes, they just looked black. Was hard to know for definite with the amount of punches I was receiving but if no one was to know Bucky like we do, then people would be sure that the Winter Soldier is alive and well.”

Bucky stood there dumbfounded not even knowing what to say or even think, everyone just looks confused at what you’re saying it makes no sense but then again yous are all in a room with three super-soliders, a witch, a highly trained ex-assassin and a guy that has robotic wings for christ sake.

“Ok i think we should all take a break give Nat and y/n some space ok? Come on guys, we can debrief you later y/n/n yeah?” Steves the one to speak up this time probably too confused and tired to have this conversation.

“I know what you're gonna say Tasha, and i'm not in the mood to hear it so can we leave the telling off until tomorrow? Ok, thanks means a lot.”

“No. we are talking about this now so it can be over with and we can move forward. Its simple really y/n/n youre a fucking idiot!” her voice starts to get louder as she continues her rant.

“You call for backup no matter the excuse you call for it or you get back on that jet and come back home no mission is worth more than your life you know that! Ugh, i’m so fucking angry at you for being so fucking reckless! You could have died? Why can't you see that? Just because you have that serum it doesn't make you invincible you know that but you've acted it! All of this for some files? How can you expect me to not be upset or angry? You’re my partner, and i love you more than anything but when you act like this it makes me think if you are even thinking about me when youre risking your life for some stupid usb.” she looks away as she continues to cry, your brain now trying to process all of these words but also all of these emotions. Wait, did she just say she loves you? You have been together for nearly a year now and neither of you had even said that yet, you both knew it but never dared to say it.

“You love me?” it's your turn to choke out now, you know you love her but one minute she is calling you reckless and an idiot then she is telling you she loves you?

“Of course i love you, you fucking idiot!”

“Ok, ok, still mad i got it” she slowly turns to glare at you this time but she sees your tears slowly rolling down your face and she instantly softens her glare. You take her hands into yours and you know you have to say it back because if you don't she is going to be even more mad than what she already is and one thing you don't want to deal with right now is a mad girlfriend because she is so scary.

“Hey Talia, listen ok? I love you too. I do, I really do. I'm sorry i was reckless, i should have come back but it was like my body was on auto mode and yes like you said that isn't an excuse i know that ok. I thought i'd be ok on my own and well clearly i wasn't as i’m in a hospital bed but i’m here. I know we both worry when we go on separate missions and I know you probably worried more because I didn't come and say goodbye but I was hoping to be back by the time you woke up. Steve said it was abandoned and when I got off the jet and started walking no one was there and then I was ambushed by some guards but I took them down with ease and there was no one else in sight, my comms went off and they were buzzing and I just carried on. I needed to do this mission baby, I needed to get this information about the serum so we can try and stop HYDRA creating more soldiers and putting them through pain. I’m sorry I've hurt you, I didn't mean to do that, I was just doing my job but I'll tell Steve for next time that if i’m to go on a solo mission that you need to be with me ok? No more solo missions, not just for me but for everyone. We need to be safe. Especially with another Winter Soldier walking around like he owns the place ok? I love you Natalia, I’m sorry.” you've already lowered your head at this point too embarrassed by telling her we all need to be safe and that you love her.

You feel one of her hands move from yours, you think she is gonna walk out but instead you feel the softness of her fingertips tracing the bruising on your cheekbones before you even have the chance to hiss at the tender touch her lips are pressed so intensely against yours. You've kissed many times before but this kiss, it's just so different it's as if she is trying to tell you exactly how much she loves you and how much she is happy you're here just by this kiss. You move your hand up to her face and slowly move it round to play with the hairs at the back of her neck, she hums and slowly stops kissing you. You didn't want that kiss to end and you groan in frustration and she chuckles at your little outburst, Nat leans her forehead against yours and finally lets out a breath. You're ok, she knows it now.

You both sit in comfortable silence for a while forehead to forehead until you feel a shooting pain in your stomach, you hiss in pain and move away to lie back down on your back. Natasha is up in an instant thinking she has hurt you but you're quick to calm her nerves.

“Baby it's ok, just some pain. Come and lay with me, please?” you pull your puppy dog face, a face you know she cannot resist. She simply smiles and makes her way back over to the bed as you shuffle over to make room for her. The next minute you're both lying and she is snuggled into your side, your hand drawing patterns on her back and her arm ever so carefully laying above your wrapped stomach.

You understood why she was mad at you, you put your life on the line and didn't think twice about how she would feel with the consequences. You hated yourself for that, you knew you'd feel the same if it was her laying here injured and not you but it wasn't.

The room was silent, a comfortable silence. One you and Natasha both could just relax too.

“When I said I love you y/n, I truly meant it. You're it for me” she moved her head off your chest to look into your eyes, her eyes held so much emotion and you knew right then and there again like you had known for the past year that you were going to marry this woman.

“And you're it for me Natalia Alianovna Romanoff. I love you Talia, forever and always.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #natalia romanoff #black widow x reader #marvel mcu #natasha romanoff imagine

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sundaysundaes · 3 years

Text

Drunk Antics

Mark Lee X Reader, ft. Johnny | Smut, Fluff | 5.8k | College AU

Summary: After being caught having sex with your previously virgin boyfriend, you thought Mark and your brother Johnny would never get along. That is until your boy comes back to your room in the drunkest state he’s ever been after a short trip to the bar with his Johnny-hyung, asking you to try new tricks he’s learned from the Master of Sex.

Sort of a continuation from Our First Time but can be read separately.

Warnings: Smut, oral sex, drunk unprotected sex. For the sake of the very little plot there is, Mark is intoxicated in this fic so his consent may be unclear. Please don’t read this fic if this makes you feel uncomfortable. I also don’t approve nor allow taking advantage of your romantic partner while they are under the influence of alcohol.

“You forgot that you borrowed his AirPods?!” Your boyfriend is shrieking in whispers, doe eyes shaking in fear and horror as he kneels on your bed, trying to shamelessly hog every inch of your blanket to cover his body.

Mark is so drowning in panic that he doesn’t even notice that you, in fact, are still naked. “I was going to use them before to work on my assignment,” you try to reason, “but then you came so I kind of forgot about them.”

“Kind of?!” He screeches. “I agreed to have sex with you because I thought you were sure that he had his AirPods on!”

You stare at him flatly. “You’re making me feel like I just took advantage of you.”

“I am feeling like you just took advantage of me!”

“You just lost your virginity, I think you have to thank me instead.”

“Babe,” Mark grabs both of your shoulders, staring with wide eyes as if there’s a ghost lurking behind your back but he’s trying his best to calm you down (though he’s pretty much shitting his own pants). “You should’ve remembered that you took his AirPods. He heard us.”

“Mark,” you imitate his tone mockingly, taking a hold of his shoulders in the same manner. “It would’ve been super weird if I thought about my brother when I have my hot boyfriend rubbing his dick against my ass.”

Distracted, a sheepish smile forms on his face. “You think I’m hot?” But he shakes himself awake on the next second, going back to yanking out his hair with both hands. “No, wait—what am I going to do—your brother heard us having sex—I can’t—”

“I heard my brother having sex all the time.” You shrug nonchalantly. “Sometimes even when he’s alone in his room, which is gross.”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT—”

“Guys?” Johnny’s knocks on the door are becoming more impatient. “I swear to God, if you two go back to sucking each other off, I’m going to throw Mark under the bus and run him over myself.“

Mark’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Did you hear that?!”

You roll your eyes in response, reaching out to the table beside your bed and snatch Johnny’s AirPods from inside the drawer. “Here,” you hand it over to Mark.

Your boyfriend reacts as if you just handed him a bowl of hot lava and he fumbles with his hands, shoving the AirPods back to you with so much horror in his eyes. “Why are you giving me this—no—no—”

“Mark, honey.” You gently smile, pushing the thing back in the most motherly way you can manage. “I’m covered in cum—your cum, in case you forgot—and you’re hogging all the blanket—“

“No—”

“Also, I’m sweaty and gross. Can you please be a man for once and let me take my shower? You can still join me afterward.”

“Babe!” You can tell he’s about to throw up out of fear but he’s just so cute, you can’t help but keep teasing him about it. “This is not fair—he’s going to kill me! And what do you mean ‘for once’, am I—“

“Okay, guys, any day now.” Your brother, Johnny, calls again from the other side of the door. “If one of you don’t come out and hand me back my AirPods in the next ten seconds, I am literally going to call the police.”

Mark nearly jumps out of his own skin. “What?!”

“Oh, shut up, Johnny,” you shout back, mouthing calming words to your boyfriend who looks like he’s seconds away from fainting. “You’re not going to do that and we both know it!”

“But I am going to call our Mom.”

“That he might do,” you say, wincing a little at Mark. “Okay, I’m going to take a shower.” You lean forward to give him a peck on his cheek. “Good luck, babe.” And you sprint off to the bathroom inside your room, all while holding out your best not to cackle loudly.

“Where are you going—Baby, get back here!” You can hear Mark protesting in whispers, but you just send him flying kisses and a wink, and shut the bathroom door behind you.

Mark’s soul is leaving his body, he can feel it. And that’s okay, because Johnny is going to kill him anyway. But when the older man really starts to count to ten, Mark jumps out of the bed, tripping approximately three times as he tries his best to dress himself back in his own clothes while muttering the words “shit” and “fuck” repetitively under his breath.

When he’s sure he looks less fucked than before, Mark opens the door, breathing hard as if he just did the worst workout in his life.

“H-hey,” Mark starts, attempting to throw his best look-at-me-I’m-a-good-boy-who-did-not-just-fuck-your-sister-when-you-were-around smile at the other man. “How’s it going, man?” His voice breaks in the middle of his line and he winces as he tries to calculate the least painful death options he can commit.

Johnny unenthusiastically gazes back at him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m… smiling at you?”

“Don’t. You look like a serial killer.”

“S-sorry, I’m—“ Mark’s eyes start searching everywhere but Johnny’s eyes as he feels his own feet turning into jelly. “I guess I’m nervous.”

“Nervous? Why?” Johnny places his hands inside the pocket of his jeans, looking way too intimidating for your boyfriend to handle. “Because you just had sex with my sister while I’m in the house?”

Mark’s jaw is almost dislocating from his face from how wide he opens his mouth. “I—I, umm—“ He clears his throat, wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead. “S-so, you really heard us, huh?” He tries to laugh it off, which he soon regrets from the way Johnny’s eyes are throwing daggers at him.

“Yeah, well,” Johnny shrugs, “My ears don’t have on-and-off buttons that I can switch whenever I want. I used to have my AirPods to do that job, but she borrowed them to help her concentrate while doing her assignment.” He gives out a sly grin, almost mockingly. “Little did I know that her assignment was you.”

If he didn’t feel like dying before, Mark is sure as hell feeling it now. “I’m so sorry—I swear, she told me you had them—I also thought you were downstairs—“

“Yeah, I do go upstairs from time to time, you know, ‘cause my room is over there,” he dully replies, nudging his head to the end of the corridor, where his room is located next to yours.

Mark’s entire body shudders in horror. “Dude, I didn’t know—I thought that was a storage room—oh God—”

“Don’t call me dude. I’m not your dude.”

“Fuck—sorry, you’re right—I’m—“ He’s hyperventilating by this point. “Is there any place in this house where I can kill myself?”

“You can try jumping off my balcony,” Johnny answers in the most casual way that Mark begins to question whether he’s really being serious about it.

“G-great, I’ll put that in my options,” is all Mark has to say. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing, bud.” Johnny yawns, offering one hand to the other man which Mark stupidly enough stares in confusion before he takes a hold of it and gives it a sweaty handshake. Johnny switches his gaze from Mark’s face to their hands before he brings back to stare at him straight in the eyes and says, “My AirPods, you idiot.”

“FUCK—“ Mark is so embarrassed that he stumbles on his feet, knocks the side of his head against the door frame, and does a silent scream when the pain jolts to his entire body.

“Man, I wish I had my phone ready to record all of that,” Johnny comments.

Mark is too much in pain to recognize his mumbling. He fumbles with the AirPods in his hand, shoving them to Johnny’s chest. “Shit, I don’t know why I thought you wanted a handshake—here—oh my God—I’m so sorry—“

Even Johnny seems a little bit amused at his antics by this point. “Thanks,” he says, tucking the AirPods inside the pocket of his jeans. “You have some time to spare?”

Mark gulps. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Not until the end of the day.” Johnny says, and Mark laughs a little bit too loud and a little bit too hard and by the way Johnny smiles, he still can’t tell whether he’s joking or not. “Come on, let’s go have a drink.”

“Umm I-I don’t think I should—“

“Not a request, Mark.”

“Yes sir, on my way!” And he knocks himself once again against the door frame as he rushes forward to follow his steps.

“Also, Mark?”

“Yes?”

“Your shirt’s inside out.”

***

“Mark?” Your voice is answered by the silence of your room. You’re feeling a little bit dizzy from the hot shower you just took. You took a bit long in the bathroom, waiting for Mark to come and join you with a cute pout on his lips and tears in his eyes (that’s how you imagined him to be anyway) but your boyfriend, it turns out, was not even in your room. You put on your clothes—a knitted navy blue sweater with sleeves a little bit too long for your arms and a simple pair of jeans—and head downstairs, searching your house but nobody comes to answer. Sighing, you go back to your room and try to call his cellphone but immediately feel disappointed when his ringtone comes from under the bed.

“Great, he forgot his cellphone,” you mutter to yourself, picking his phone up and throws it on the bed. “Did he really run home without telling me?” The image of Mark panicking and running away from your house like his life depends on it sure does look like it’s something he does out of shame. But judging by how great your previous sex activity was, you figure that he’s probably going to go back to you sooner or later. He also has his phone to retrieve anyway.

So it’s time for you to actually get some work done. There’s no other reason for you to run away from your goddamn thesis and the day is getting late. After having some ramyun for dinner, you finally begin working on your assignment.

It’s hard to start, but a few minutes after you get your head to it, you start losing track of time. You’re finally done with your work (most of it anyway), already closing your laptop and place it back on your backpack, when your door abruptly swings open, showing your boyfriend’s face with the biggest grin on his face.

“Baby, I’m home,” he says in a sing-song voice, a bit slurry and a little high pitched. Before you can say anything—too busy trying to figure out how high he is judging from the dopey look on his face—Mark is giggling and walks closer to you. “You know,” he says, placing a hand on your desk and leaning close enough for you to know that he reeks of alcohol. “I just had the greatest day of my life today. And it’s all because. of. you.” He pokes your nose repetitively between every word.

“Mark—“

“Are you hungry? I’m hungry. Do you want some pancakes, because man, I’d love some pancakes—“

“What, are you drunk?” The answer is obvious but you ask anyway.

“No, I’m Mark.” He grins, chuckling at his lousy joke.

“You are so drunk.”

“And you,” he snickers, pinching one of your cheeks, “are so cute~”

You swat his hand away. “Where have you been?”

“I went to a bar with your brother,” he giggles again, playfully massaging your shoulders. “He’s so coooool~”

“What?!”

“Yeah, he’s, like, so tall and, like, so fit.” You can’t believe you’re hearing your boyfriend fangirling over your brother. “And he knows a lot of stuff—like, a lot a lot.”

You certainly have to kick Johnny in the shins after this. “How—why—I thought you were—“

“Babe, you’re rambling.”

You can’t believe you’re turning into him, so you clear your throat and try again. “How drunk are you exactly?”

“Drunk enough to know that this,” he stops to pick up the fishbowl you placed on the bedside table—where Marky the Goldfish is sleeping with its eyes open—and lifts it up to his face, “water cannot be drunk but drunk enough to contemplate about doing it.”

You make a face. “Leave Marky alone.”

“Why did you name it after me?”

“Because it’s dumb. Like you.”

“Huh, can’t really argue with that.” He snorts, placing the fishbowl back to the table and tripping on his feet as he does so—spilling some water from the side but thank God, your fish is safe and alive, though probably also a little bit drunk because of that sudden… turbulence.

“Oops,” he giggles, “Sorry, Marky.” He doesn’t look regretful in the slightest. You stare at him in silence, unconsciously judging him with all you have and usually, he would start becoming nervous and fumbling with his words but now, he just looks at you like you’re the best thing that ever happened to him and rushes forward.

“Man, I love you.” He tackles you into a hug, almost sending you toppling down your chair, “I love you so much. Have I said that today?”

This is certainly not the way you imagined your first confession to be like, especially coming from Mark who’s usually shy and too childish to admit his feelings. “No, you haven’t,” you retort. “Ever.”

“What, really?” His eyes are perfectly round and wide, actually surprised about it. “Shit, I’m sorry. Come here.” He pulls you up to your feet, cradling you into his arms, hands flailing all over your body before they finally rest on your waist. “I can’t believe we had sex and I didn’t even tell you that. I’m so sorry.” He leans back, putting some space between you so he can stare directly into your eyes. “I love you. I’ve always been for a while. I’m so in love with you that I can barely concentrate whenever you’re around.”

You wish he wasn’t drunk out of his mind because those words, those lines, could have been so romantic but even though he looks romantic, you’re not sure whether he’s being one hundred percent conscious about it.

“Okay, let’s talk about this again when you’re sober.” You tap his cheek with one hand and pinch it when he whines. “Have you even taken a shower yet?”

“Yeah, this morning.” He smiles dreamily at you, kissing the inside of your palm. You can’t believe how bold and greasy he becomes when he’s drunk. “And yesterday. And the day before that. And—”

“Okaaaay.” You shut him up by placing your hand above his mouth, which he licks like a little puppy, earning a surprised yelp from you. “Mark!”

“Babe!” He imitates before throwing himself to the bed, laughing at your face. “Come here, join me in my bed.”

“That’s my bed.”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

You exhale loudly, rolling your eyes. “I don’t think you can go home at this state. Your mom would kill me.”

“But I’m already home,” he says, crawling toward you until he kneels at the edge of the bed, face to face with you. “Home is wherever the heart is, right? And my heart is with you.”

You curse yourself inwardly for having your heart flutter at his embarrassing line and you hate yourself even more when he notices you’re blushing.

“Whatever. Just take a shower and get some sleep.” You walk back to your desk, flipping around the pages of your textbook. “I still have two chapters to read.”

You can hear your boyfriend huffing behind you, but try your best to ignore him. It’s an impossible feat, it turns out, when Mark sneaks up behind you, circling his arms around your shoulders and peppers few kisses down the side of your neck.

“Mark—“

“You smell so good.” He inhales deeply, burying his nose in the strands of your hair. Standing up, you turn around to face him so you can protest and push him away but the look on his face makes you freeze.

“You’re so cute,” he says, running his hand up from the curve of your neck to cup your cheek. “And You’re so pretty. And hot. You’re so…” He begins staring at your lips, eyes unfocused. “Hot.”

You can tell it’s coming but when he kisses you, almost hungrily, it feels like he’s snatching your breath away. “Mark, wait—”

“Not waiting,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling your hand over his shoulder so you’re forced to lean your entire weight against his chest. Mark’s calloused hands travel down your body, wrapping both against the back of your thighs and lifts them up so you can wrap your legs around his waist. You follow his lead though still not entirely convinced that you should continue this.

Mark kicks your sliding chair away with one leg and places you down on your desk. He roughly pushes all your papers and textbooks to the end of the table, making enough space where you can sit facing him, with your legs tangling around his waist.

You have spent a decent amount of time kissing Mark over the months you’ve been dating, but only now that you have the chance to kiss him when he’s drunk and you’re aware just how much you’ve been missing.

The drunk version of Mark Lee unexpectedly kisses much more slowly compared to the sober version of Mark Lee, and if you thought fast, passionate kisses were hot, then these slow, deep kisses are sending actual shivers down your spine.

Mark has his right hand cupping your cheek, rubbing comforting circles on your skin with his thumb, while his other one is around your waist, slipping his fingers underneath the hem of your sweater. He angles your head to the side, and his parting lips fit like a perfect puzzle piece with yours. There’s a shy trace of his tongue along your bottom lip, as he nibbles at it slowly and he lets out this small moan as he does it as if it’s something he’s been wanting to do for years and just finally able to do it now.

He tastes like alcohol and you’re not particularly fond of it but the more he kisses you, the more you think it doesn’t matter because he still somewhat tastes like how Mark usually does and you always love the way he tastes on your tongue.

He drags your chin down with his thumb, tasting you a little bit deeper and as he presses his hips against yours, his breathing becomes ragged and you just realize that you probably have a kink for all of this stuff because holy mother of God, this is just so hot.

“Mark,” you sigh as he moves away to kiss your ear, warm lips pressing against your earlobe. He hums in a low, breathy voice that you’ve never heard him do and it makes your stomach flip. “Mark, you’re drunk.” It’s more like a reminder to yourself because you know that as the sober one, you have to put a stop to this but what can you do when he has his tongue tracing against your skin and his soft moans vibrating through your ears?

“Baby,” he whispers, pulling away a little so you can see his eyes and fuck, it’s the biggest mistake you’ve made today—bigger than forgetting that you borrowed Johnny’s AirPods. His eyes are half-lidded, utterly filled with lust and the way he licks his bottom lip as he stares at you has you breathless. He leans closer, as if he’s about to kiss you again, and whispers, “Don’t you want me?”

You remember that you said the same thing earlier to him that day and it makes you think how karma is a fucking bitch. You secretly wonder whether you have the same effect on him because Mark is being so irresistible right now and he successfully makes you throw all of your reasoning to the back of your head.

“Fuck this,” you claim under your breath, pulling him down to you by the neck and crush your mouth together. You can feel your boyfriend smiling into the kiss, and the sounds of your wet kisses make your heartbeat go crazy.

“Take off your shirt,” you command, already grabbing the end of his shirt and struggling as you try to pull it over his head. Mark helps, chuckling a little bit and when it’s off, he has his lips against your neck again. His teeth are prickling against your skin, sucking it until it’s bruised and you have to remind yourself to be angry about it later—because you have classes tomorrow and what if anyone sees that nasty hickey on your neck?—but right now, you just want him to mark you over and over again.

Mark starts to unbutton your jeans, pulling the zipper down and you use your free hand and legs to shake your pants off. It’s not easy, and you almost kick your boyfriend in the face while doing so, but he laughs it off and kisses you again. You can tell how hard he is when he presses himself against you, and you’re eager to put him out of his misery but he suddenly pulls away, saying, “Wait, let me do this first,” and he kneels on the floor, his face right between your legs.

You can feel your breath hitched when he runs his fingers on the inside part of your thighs, his lips follow soon after. He slips his fingers around the edge of your panties and pulls them down. You suddenly feel so exposed to the way he’s looking at you so you pull the end of your sweater down, trying to cover your thighs as much as you can.

“Why are you so shy?” Mark says, taking your hand away and pressing his lips against your palm. His eyes never leave yours and they twinkle in the most teasing way. “You weren’t shy about this before.”

“Stop looking at it too much,” you reply nervously, can’t help but to blush about it. “I feel weird.”

Mark chuckles, airily and soft. “Sorry, I just didn’t have the chance to really see you before,” he explains, one hand unconsciously rubbing your thigh, trying to calm you down. “Can I eat you out?”

Sober Mark will definitely not say anything like this—hell, sober Mark will probably faint just thinking about saying stuff like this—which is why you’re becoming even more nervous and excited at the same time.

“Baby?” Mark calls, smiling softly. “I kind of asked you a question.”

Fuck me. “Yes,” you breathe out, and you realize he was just messing with you before but who the fuck cares right now.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Mark, please.” You can hear yourself whining and you hate yourself for it, but desperate times call for desperate measures. “Please eat me out, Mark.”

He smiles in the sexiest way that you don’t think it’s possible—like seriously, who is this guy?—biting his lower lip as he does so and if he keeps doing that, you figure he doesn’t even have to eat you out to make you come undone.

He presses his lips near your heat, whispering, “Good girl,” before he places his mouth on the exact spot you want him to be.

“Fuck,” you hiss, biting your own lip as you see his head move between your legs. Mark has his eyes closed, repeating what he has learned earlier that day and does the thing you like the most. When he locks his eyes with yours, you almost choke out a sob.

“Mark,” you try to keep your voice down in whispers but Mark is so good that it feels much easier to work on your goddamn stupid thesis rather than holding back your moan.

“Mmm.” The way he moans at the back of his throat as if he’s having the best time of his life makes you weak and you press your thighs together without knowing. Mark places his hands on each side of your thighs and spreads your legs wide apart, allowing himself to be even closer and making you feel way more exposed. You have to grip your desk with both hands to keep yourself from falling.

“Okay, no, stop—“ You find yourself breathing hard, pushing him back by the shoulder and he raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Was it not good?” He asks and you curse inwardly.

“Mark,” You grab him by the silver necklace he has around his neck, pulling him up so you’re face-to-face. “I’m about to come, what do you think?”

“Really?” He looks impressed with himself. “Then, why did you stop me?”

You tangle your legs around his waist, bringing him close and grind your hips against his. “You know why.”

Mark’s thin lips part in a silent moan, whispering, “Fuck,” under his breath but he tries to keep his composure. “No, I don’t,” he says, teasing you though he doesn’t look like he’s able to hold himself back long. “Babe, I literally just lost my virginity a few hours ago. You have to tell me what you want.”

“Mark.”

“Babe.”

You scowl at him and scowl harder when he has this shit-eating grin on his face, and if your eyes could throw daggers, he’d be in so much pain right now. But Mark is making a sound between a giggle and a snort, which is rather cute but you still kick him in the stomach for playing with you at a time like this. “Mark, come on! I want you to fuck me!”

He takes a hold of your thigh, leaning down to place kisses under your ear. “And where do you want me to fuck you, exactly?” He whispers, purposely making an mmm sound as he sucks on your earlobe. “Should we move to the bed?”

“No, fuck, just do it here.” You unbuckle his belt, pushing his jeans and boxer down to around his thighs, low enough for you to stroke his member and position it toward your entrance. “Mark, just put your cock inside me.”

It seems like he’s beginning to lose his mind over how desperate you are actually begging him. You guide him toward you, making sure he’s not doing anything wrong and when he pushes inside, you just have to bite on his shoulder to muffle your moan.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, eyes closing shut as he grips on your thighs, nails sinking into the skin almost painfully. “I couldn’t remember whether you were you this tight before but—oh God—”

His movements are still a bit sloppy, but soon he finds the pace you both like and maintains it. When he sees you throwing your head back in pleasure, he grins to himself and lifts your sweater up to your chest. You help him take it off, unclasping your bra with so much effort as he continues pounding into you.

He’s so consumed by the sight of your breasts bouncing up and down matching his thrusts until he can’t take it anymore. “Babe, can I go a little bit rough?”

“Wha—fuck!” It’s your luck that you don’t slam your head against the wall from the sudden force Mark is thrusting into you. He has his mouth on your breast, moving his hips much quicker than before, and moaning your name several times under his breath. The desk is clearly making a sound as it bumps against the wall but you don’t care—your parents are out of town and Johnny already heard you two before anyway. You can just apologize to him tomorrow.

Mark suddenly changes position, lifting one of your legs up in the air while keeping the other down so he can slide in deeper. “Johnny-hyung told me to try this,” he says with a smirk on his face. He’s breathing quite hard, just like you. He kisses the side of your ankle once before he lays your leg on his shoulder. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

When he moves his hips again, with so much force that you have to hold on to the table, you’re pretty much just screaming his name. Mark’s bangs are sticking to his skin as beads of sweat start to form on his temple, and he pushes his hair back with one hand, chanting your name like a prayer and recording every expression you make in his mind.

You can handle his movements but you’re sure the skin around your waist is going to bruise tomorrow from how hard he’s holding you. You’re getting distracted by the way the muscles on his abs flex with every movement that it catches you off guard when he suddenly says, “I love you,” between his soft moans. You shudder at his words, leaning forward to wrap your fingers around his arm, begging for support. “Mark, you’re not fair—“ The rest of your sentence dies when he hits the spot that makes you see stars.

It’s a little bit embarrassing for you, the much more experienced one, to come undone before he does but Mark doesn’t stop, even if you beg him to. “Hold on to me,” he says, smashing his lips against yours and adding, “Just a little bit more, baby,” between kisses.

When he’s finished, your back and legs are aching so much that he has to carry you onto the bed. Mark shakes his pants off before he slides under the blanket next to you. He asks whether you want to shower and you shake your head. “Tomorrow. I can barely stand right now, to be honest,” you comment which earns a light chuckle from him.

You both sigh out loud, staring at the ceiling and trying the process what the fuck just happened.

“Mark?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“I know it’s bad for your health, but do you think you can get drunk more often?”

He giggles at that, turning to his side so he can face you. He looks so sleepy and you let him caress your face with his fingers with the little energy he has left. “Thank you for today,” he says, smiling dreamily. He leans closer to press your temples together, rubbing the tip of his nose to yours in a childish manner before he kisses you softly. He drifts off to sleep soon after.

When you wake up the next morning, still naked and gross from the night before, you realize that yes, small purplish bruises are forming on the skin of your thighs, waist and for sure, your neck. You look to your right, seeing your boyfriend still sleeping soundly with his stomach pressed against your bed and his lips slightly parted. You don’t have the heart to wake him up, but your parents can come home anytime soon and they cannot catch the two of you looking like this.

“Mark,” you softly call, placing a hand on his cheek and rubbing his skin with your thumb. “Mark, wake up.”

He groans, turning his face away from you. You tap his shoulder, run a hand through his dark locks and still nothing. Huffing, you gather the very little energy you have—without coffee in the morning, you’re pretty much nothing—to turn his body around and crawl on top of him.

“Wha—” Mark’s eyes are half-open but don’t stay so for long when he notices how you’re basically straddling his bare abs with your naked body. He panics so much that he begins to flail all over the place and end up falling from the bed and knocking you off his lap in the process.

You break into a train of laughter, pulling some blanket to cover your body. “Guess sober Mark is back.”

“Why are you naked?!” He shrieks, head peeping out from under the bed, and he shrieks louder when he notices that he’s also in his birthday suit. “Why am I naked?!”

“You seriously don’t remember?”

Mark takes a few seconds to himself, trying to process everything that his blurry memories can give and his jaw falls slack on his face when he realizes that, “We had sex!”

“Yeah, we did. Twice.” You giggle, nudging your head toward your desk which is literally in chaos—papers scattered everywhere, books falling to the floor, pens unaligned.

Mark follows your gaze and gapes harder. “Shit, yeah, on that desk—I remember—wait, but how?! Why—” He looks like he’s physically hurting trying to remember every detail, and probably that’s his hangover talking.

“Want some aspirin?”

He pouts rather cutely. “Yes, please.” When you step down from the bed, leaving your blanket behind, Mark blushes and immediately turns his face away, unconsciously letting out a girly yelp as he does so.

“Umm, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re naked.”

You stifle down a laugh. “Yes, I noticed. And so are you.”

Mark covers his bottom half with a pillow, face flushed. “C-can you put some clothes on?”

You were planning to, but seeing him react like this makes you re-think your decision. “Mark, we literally had sex twice yesterday.”

“I know, don’t say it!” He hides his face behind his palm. “It’s still embarrassing for me.”

“You certainly weren’t embarrassed last night,” you tease, “You even asked whether you could eat me out—”

“GAH!” He has both hands covering his ears, turning his entire body around to hide his face but the way his ears are going red is contradicting his action.

“Mark, look at me.”

“No way in hell!”

Smirking to yourself, you slowly walk to his spot, not covering even an inch of yourself. When you call him again, softer this time, Mark makes a mistake and throws you a glance. He’s no longer able to take his gaze off you after that.

You spread your legs, sitting on the pillow he has on his lap and wrapping both legs around his waist. Pressing your chest to his, you lean close to his ear. “Wanna go for another round?”

Mark gulps.

***

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